A Fate Reversed
by FantasyBard
Summary: What if you could reverse fate? Sometimes a single act can change the course of multiple destinies. And it is upon the smallest things that fates turns. This is the story of how fate was reversed, and what happened as a result.
1. Prologue

TAH-DAH! Here it is, a brand new story from FanatsyBard. I am proud to introduce the sequel to Freedom to Love, Freedom to Live. Thanks to the miracle of fan fiction, I can bring back the characters who have died and give them a new life. Is this a great hobby or what? Anyway, this basically takes up right where Freedom left off. So that means it contains all the same characters and situations, the only difference being that nobody dies.

For those who are just reading this story, it is probably not necessary to read Freedom to Love, Freedom to Live in order to understand this story. It is rather self-explanatory. However, if you want to read the other one, go right ahead. I always welcome new readers.

And finally....

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I am not making this for profit. Please do not sure me.

There, now that's out of the way, enjoy A Fate Reversed.

Prologue_:_

_Fate is a strange thing. It gives and takes a random. One can never know how things will turn out in any given circumstance. Things that are certain become uncertain and things that aren't possible suddenly become the most natural thing in the world. _

_Upon the smallest things do fates turn and one small act can change the course of destiny._

_This is the story of how many different fates were reversed and what happened as a result. It is a story that time had forgotten and that legend passed over. But it will be remembered now. It is the story of how love can triumph over all and how even the darkest night gives way to the brightest dawn._

_The story begins on the battlefield of Badon Hill. Arthur and the Woads fight against the invading Saxon barbarians to defend homeland and freedom. Amongst the blue-painted Woads and the fur-clad Saxons, seven ride on horses, dealing out death and destruction for any foolish enough to happen into their paths. These are the knights of Sarmatia, the famous and deadly cavalry of the Roman infantry granted their freedom but hours ago, they have returned to fight for a land not their own, but which they feel compelled to defend. But, though each of these men fight with the strength of ten, even the best fighter needs someone to watch his back._

_Within the pack of Woads, two women who have established themselves as both respected leaders and fierce fighters, block all comers and rally their troops onto to greater efforts until the last of the Saxon threat is wiped out._

_One of these women is Guinevere, daughter of the Woad leader Merlin, and one of the mightiest warriors of her people. It is freedom for her people that she fights for and the love of the man known as Arthur Castus, commander of the Sarmation knights, a leader both Britain and Roman, a man who for many years was her enemy; now, after the events of the past few weeks she heads grown to love him as she had never thought possible._

_The other is Anaria, cousin to Guinevere. She fights as well as Guinevere herself, though she takes no pleasure in the violence, however necessary it might be. She was always more healer than bloodthirsty warrior. However, the traumatic of her past made her abandon that part of herself for many years. But the events of the past few weeks have shown her that her talents as a healer have been reawakened; she is only just beginning to discover how much she can be. Like Guinevere, she fights for the freedom of her people, but she is also fighting for her future. For she also has a love fighting in this battle: Tristran, the scout who captured her heart years ago, and the one who is destined to bring her more joy than she ever thought would be possible for her._

_It is here, on this battlefield, among these players, that fate will be reversed, for the legend is about to change, as none could have predicated._

THE BATTLEFIELD OF BADON HILL

Anaria fought with the strength of any man. In fact, she probably exceeded some of the men on the field that day, for she was looking for the one who gave strength to her very soul. In between thrusts and parries, she searched desperately for Tristran. The feeling that Tristran would die if she did not reach him soon hadn't diminished. If anything it had started to loom larger in her mind with each passing moment.

Anaria gritted her teeth as she met the charge of a Saxon who came barreling toward her like a whirlwind. She dispatched the enemy with a quick thrust and continued her search. She wasn't going to let this feeling be justified. She wasn't going to allow herself to think that she was too late or that she might fail. She was going to find him and he would come out of this alive.

For how long she repeated this mantra over and over to herself and fought Saxons at the same time, she never knew. It felt like hours, or even days, though it was probably only several minutes. And suddenly, there he was, not more than twenty feet in front of her. But he was in danger.

Tristran was battling with a Saxon who was a bigger and heavier than the rest of the Saxons that Anaria had been so unfortunate to see in the last few hours. She suspected that he must have been the leader of the army. There was an air of authority and deadly skill around him which made that idea hardly impossible. He was almost like Anaria's uncle, Merlin, in that case, but there any resemblance ended. Merlin always radiated calm and protection, this man could never have that; he was all brutality and evil.

Tristran was beginning to lose strength. Each stroke was costing him and his movements were becoming sluggish. He had been wounded in many places. But still he fought on as best as he was able too, but she knew that he couldn't hold on for very long. She had to get to him before it was too late.

Tristran and Cerdic were squared off, perhaps for the last time. Tristran was bleeding into many different places to count. He knew that in all probability, he stood every chance of dying. But he wasn't afraid. At least, for the first time in his life, he was fighting for something worthwhile. If his death meant that Anaria could live the free life she deserved, than it would be truly an honorable death indeed.

Cerdic lunged at Tristran, and the knight soon found himself being driven back, Cerdic pressing the advantage of his opponents' weakness, putting even more brute force behind his attack.

It was not long before Tristran, overcome by fatigue and his wounds, absentmindedly slipped on a patch of wet grass. Cerdic took the opportunity and knocked the sword from Tristran's hands. Tristran cursed himself for his lack of foresight. Now without any means of defending himself, he felt the raw pain beginning to eat at his nerves. His knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed at the feet of the Saxon. He knew he couldn't expect any mercy from the barbaric Saxon, and he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of begging. Instead, he raised his eyes and looked defiantly into Cerdic's face. He would see that there was no fear there.

Cerdic stared into the knight's gaze, making no attempt to hide his disgust. Truly this knight must be mad, he had fought with wounds that would have killed any other man and now he had the impudence to stare directly into the eyes of his killer. Cerdic felt no pity for his prey. He raised his sword, preparing to bring it down on his victim, but before either he or Tristran could react, another blade stopped the downward slice that would have cleaved Tristran right between the eyes.

Cerdic's eyes flashed upward, to see the owner of the sword, and was slightly surprised to see the wielder of the weapon was a woman. She was panting from exhaustion, as is she had just run a long race, and her skin was dyed a dull brown from dirt and the dozen cuts and bruises on her body. Her eyes were burning with the unmistakable light of anger and desperation. Without even exchanging one blow with this woman, Cerdic knew that he was facing an expert warrior. But he was also quite confidant that he could defeat her easily; killing expert warriors was nothing new to him.

He broke their sword lock, and the two began circling each other, as if trying to asses their separate strengths. But than Anaria charged forward and the fight was on.

Anaria seemed to fight in a blind trance. She had moved beyond feeling her exhaustion and was now fighting in a state between wakefulness and utter oblivion. In this state it seemed like time slowed down and she was able to hear every clash of the swords magnified by a thousand times. She almost felt like she could see the Saxon's move before he made them.

That foresight was the only real advantage she had. She was exhausted, while the Saxon didn't seem in the least tired. It was almost like he was some sort of machine, powered by a superhuman strength that was frightening in its single-minded intensity. Anaria had not intended to engage in full-on duel with him, she had merely hoped to draw his attention away from Tristran. Unfortunately, she had stepped in so far that she was not sure that she could retreat.

Cerdic was able to take care of her in less time than he had anticipated. He pushed her roughly to the ground, preparing to drive his sword into her body. Anaria looked up into the Saxons' terrifying face and tried to not think of what was about to happen. But, then, he stopped. Anaria stared at him, in surprise. He had her at his mercy, why didn't he finish it? But than, he looked off to the side. Anaria followed his gaze, and saw Arthur was rushing towards them like some whirlwind of destruction. Even from a distance, the look of rage and hatred in his eyes even disconcerted Cerdic.

"_I came to see your face, so that I alone might find you on the battlefield."_

Arthur had come to attempt to fulfill his promise. Cerdic looked down at Anaria's prone form, and curled his lip. He didn't have time to even kill this one. That made him even angrier. It was time to end this. He left Anaria and turned to meet Arthur's charge. Their swords met like peals thunder, the flash of their blood-stained blades was like lightening. The ultimate showdown was about to take place. The two opponents faced off; good against evil, light against dark, winner take all.

Anaria would not remember the last five minutes of that decisive battle of Badon Hill; she just lay in a heap on the ground, unable to find the strength to rise. But she would always remember how it ended. One second there was nothing but the sounds of the battle, which resembled some deep part of hell. And then, the very next second, there was nothing but silence and stillness.

Anaria opened her eyes cautiously and sat up slowly, looking around her. There weren't anymore Saxons alive anywhere on the battlefield. The pitiful remnants of the mighty Saxon army were trying to flee, but they were being quickly pursued by the more fleet-footed Woads. There wouldn't be any left of the enemy by the time the sun set.

Anaria was temporarily frozen with shock. It took her a moment to comprehend what had happened, and when it did, it hit her like a ton of bricks. It was over, her people had won; against incredible odds, they had triumphed.

The sudden revelation brought a surge of joy to Anaria's heart. She felt like running and leaping, dancing and singing, but in the end all she could find to do was remain on her knees in grateful silence, tears of sheer happiness running down her face. Surely, some higher power had been in control that day, there was no other explanation for the miracle of victory that had just occurred. "Thank you." she said, to whoever might be listening.

She turned her eyes to the battlefield, and took in the full aftermath of the fray that had been fought that afternoon. Smoke and fire burned all over the field, turning the ground into a baked wasteland. The dead of friend and foe lay scattered upon the field, so much so, that she could hardly see the field itself. The smell of charred bodies and the crying of the wounded invaded her nose and ears, bringing a bitter taste to the sweet sense of freedom that had pervaded her soul so much before.

Anaria felt her happiness begin to be tinged with feelings of remorse and solemn respect for the dead. She began to see that the celebration of victory would be bittersweet and than happiness would go hand in hand with grief. How many of her friends, she wondered, had died for this cause? Had those closest to her fallen? Was Guinevere still alive or….

Tristran. Sudden horror gripped Anaria, as she suddenly remembered that Tristran had nearly just died at the hands of the Saxon leader. Was he still alive? Or had he…

She scrambled to her feet and hurried over to Tristran's body, which was laying a little ways off her. His body was bruised and broken, and to all appearances, he was dead.

Anaria dropped her knees beside him, and took his bloodied head in her hands, cradling it against her. "Tristran? Tristran?" she said, desperately. "Tristran don't you dare die on me." Tears were beginning to run down hr face, leaving white trails where the tears cleaned away the blood on her face. For several agonizing seconds, she sat calling out his name, and then, just when she was ready to give up, she felt the weak fluttering of his pulse against her fingers.

Other signs of life followed quickly. She began to hear him breathing raggedly, his pulse growing stronger every moment. And then, his eyes, those dark orbs that could communicate so much without saying a single word fluttered open and he stared up into her face. For a split-second, Anaria felt as if everything, even the blood-stained battlefield around her had disappeared, and there was only herself and Tristran.

Tristran looked up at her, almost as if he were trying to grasp that this was indeed reality and he wasn't looking on some final illusion. But, the doubt melted away and he smiled weakly up into her face, and said, quite clearly, "I won't die, Anaria. I promise you." Then, his eyes closed once more and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

For the third time that day, tears of grateful joy fell from Anaria's eyes. Tristran was alive, and he was going to stay that way. They could be together, now; they would finally be able to live.

Gawain and Galahad, bloodied but relatively unhurt were wandering through the carnage of the battlefield, looking carefully at the faces of each fallen warrior, looking very for specific faces amongst the crowd. They met up with Bors and Dagonet, who knew without being told who they were looking for. They could do nothing but shake their heads regretfully. They had not had any success in finding any of their comrades either.

Galahad saw him first. He called to the others and pointed. They all turned and the one scene they had hoped not to see that day: Tristran was lying a little ways off from them, his body cradled in the arms of the woman who loved him.

Anaria as if she felt their eyes upon her, looked up, and met their gaze. She saw the painful question in their eyes. She looked down at Tristran, and when she looked back at them, she was smiling hopefully, and she nodded. That was all the answer which the other knights needed. Relived smiles broke out on their faces and they hurried over to her. If Tristran had been dead, they would have left her alone to grieve, but since he was alive, they all wanted to see it for themselves.

Dagonet was the first to arrive. He was the one who gave voice to the question that none had wanted to before, but now he asked it with hope. "Are you sure, Anaria? Is he going to live?"

Anaria nodded. "Yes, Dagonet, he will. He needs attention right away, but I know it can be done."

The relief that this announcement brought to the others was palpable. "Come on, Bors." Said Dagonet, "Help me get him back to the fort."

Between the two knights they managed to pick up Tristran and they began carrying him to the fort. Anaria was about to follow them when she saw something else that made her stop. Across the firewall, which was still burning, but was starting to die down in its intensity, she saw Guinevere leaning over someone on the field, grief etched on her face. She looked closer, as if trying to see who is was that she was grieving over, knowing that it was possibly someone that they both knew. And, then the next second, she saw Arthur running up to her. He seemed to look once at the body and all the strength drained from him, his face becoming a mask of agony.

Anaria suddenly thought that she knew who it was, though she didn't want to think it. It had suddenly occurred to her that she had not seen Lancelot since the battle ended, and she did not know if he was alive.

* * *

Arthur held the hair of the Saxon commander firmly in one hand, his eyes burning with anger down into the face of Cedric.

Cerdic seemed to greet death as he had lived his life, with a far away detachment that almost resembled boredom. Yet even he couldn't quite stop feeling the sudden awe and respect for the man that was standing before him, for he had been able today to do something that no former enemy of Cerdic had ever been able to accomplish.

Arthur had killed him.

"_And it would be good for you to mark my face, Saxon. For the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth."_

Many other had made that same promise; only Arthur had been able to fulfill it. And because of that, Cerdic didn't know whether to hate him or respect him. In the end, the two feelings were pretty much equal.

"Arthur." He said, in a half-whisper, and then he died. True to his predication, the last thing he saw on the earth, were the stern eyes of Arthur Castus.

Arthur stood upon the blood-stained battlefield. The Saxons had been utterly annihilated; not one had been left alive. Around him, fires crackled, the wounded groaned and the smell of death hung like a black cloud over the entire valley.

Arthur felt completely exhausted. He had no thought of what he should do next. He had killed Cerdic; now all he felt was a strange sense of emptiness. He had won victory many times before, but this was different. He had always known what would be waiting for him before, another mission from Rome. But now, how was he supposed to change anything after such mass slaughter had taken place? He didn't know if he had the strength to be the leader that the people of Britain now needed.

Suddenly, all such thoughts fled from his mind, for he then saw something which almost made him lose hope completely. There on the other side of the fire wall was Guinevere, on her knees, mourning over the body of Lancelot.

Sick horror washed through Arthur and he instantly set off at a dead run for the other side of the field. It didn't take him long to get to the place where Guinevere was kneeling. At his approach, she looked up at him with a heartbroken expression on her face.

Arthur cradled Lancelot's head in his arms; his old friend was smiling as though he had died with the most precious memory before him that he could have wished. Grief constrained Arthur's heart to such a degree that he wondered how he was still able to breath. He wanted to weep, but he felt himself too weak and exhausted to do even that.

'Lancelot,' he thought brokenly, 'you were the truest of us all.'

In a fit of anger, frustration, and sadness, he turned to the heavens and shouted, "It was my life to be taken! Not this! Never this!"

He received no answer. He lowered his face to look at Guinevere's tear-filled eyes. Guinevere tried not to let her tears show, to be strong for Arthur's sake, but it wasn't working. Gently, she laid a comforting hand on Arthur's cheek, and under the feeling of her touch, he felt his own stoic shield melting and the tears which would be held back no longer began falling from his eyes.

It was upon this scene that Anaria found them. Arthur was too broken by grief to pay any attention to her. As she knelt beside Lancelot, she couldn't help but wonder... could it be possible to have two miracles in the same day? Carefully she began to check Lancelot for the same signs of life that she had checked for in Tristran.

And it did not take her long to find them. Lancelot was also alive. Two blessings of life in the midst of so much death; it almost seemed too good to be true. She was so happy, she smiled and began laughing and crying at the same time. Arthur and Guinevere looked at her, wondering what she could possibly have to be happy about. "Arthur, he's alive. He's alive."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

"Lancelot. The arrow hasn't killed him. The others are also alive. We have all survived"

Arthur raised his eyes and stared at her, "Are you sure?" he asked, in a near breathless voice.

"Yes, Arthur. It's over and we have won."

Anaria's words would prove to be true. But now even she could have predicted just what will come from this day's events.

_The story has begun.  
Fates will be reversed.  
Love will triumph over time.  
A kingdom will forged out of the pieces of a fallen empire.  
A land will be renewed.  
And a legend will be born._

_

* * *

_Well, I do hope that everyone enjoyed that. As always, read and review.

A few more things about this story. I am going to try and cover the first year of Arthur's reign. While I will not give anything specific away, I can promise that there will be plenty of romance and action. Some of the knights will find their true loves, Anaria and Tristran will grow even more devoted to each other, and some familiar faces and names from old legends will make an appearance to cause trouble. Think about it? Who is one of Arthur's greatest enemies in the legends?

Also, I will not be telling the story exclusively from Anaria or Tristran's POV. I will be getting into the heads of some of the other characters and outlining some of their experiences. And whenever a chapter begins in _italics_, that is supposed to be sort of like a storyteller who is narrating the story. It lends the story a mystical air. I think so, anyway.

Anyway, welcome back to the world of King Arthur. Look for the next chapter in a couple weeks. In that chapter: our two favorite knights move away from oblivion and get a second chance at life.


	2. Away From Oblivion

Here is a brand new chapter of A Fate Reversed. Enjoy.

Away From Oblivion:

It was a typical fall day on the plains of Sarmatia, clear, crisp but with a bite in the air that seemed to presage the cold winter that would soon coat the valley in a blanket of snow. Soon, the wind would blow hard and cold from the north, there would be no way to gather food or hunt during the worst of the weather, and for the best, the pickings would be very seldom at best. It would be a hard time, but it was the season that Tristran actually liked the most. He and his family would be safe and snug from the winds in their hut; it would be a time of storytelling and listening to the soft singing of his mother's voice each evening. Their whole hut became their own little world and his family became the only people who lived in that world, which was all the company that he needed. It was during this season that he could relax and be himself, without worrying about the reactions of anyone else.

But the first snows would not be here for a few more weeks and during that time, the final preparations had to be made to get ready for the winter. These last few weeks of his fall were the busiest times of the year for many in the tribe and there wasn't much time on most days to find time for idle sport. But, that didn't mean there was never any time for such things.

He and his brother had managed to steal a few hours to themselves and were racing their horses across the plains of Sarmatia. The horizon stretched endlessly out before them, the sky seeming to come right down and touch the fields in the far distance. They were racing for that place where sky and field became one. They would never reach it of course, but it was the thinking that they _could_ reach it that made the race twice as exciting.

However, for Tristran, something was not quite right with the situation. For some reason, he felt slightly out of place in these plains and endless blue skies. He felt as one who had returned home from a long journey, and found that the place he had grown up as a child is not the same as he remembers it, or that it's not his true home anymore. He couldn't remember how or why he had come back to Sarmatia, but he felt he was just visiting, and there was a part of him that longed to return to his true home. Where exactly that was, he couldn't remember, but he knew that it was no longer Sarmatia.

Sagramore managed to kick his horse into a faster gallop and pass Tristran in his moment of slipped judgment. He rocketed past Tristran and took over the lead that Tristran had occupied for the past mile. Tristran growled, frustrated that he had allowed this to happen yet again and urged his mount to go faster. But now that Sagramore had the lead, he wasn't about to give it up. Every time Tristran angled to pass him, Sagramore seemed to anticipate it and moved his own horse to block his path. This event happened multiple times, until finally Tristran conceded defeat, (a thing he rarely did and only for his brother did he ever say that he was beaten) and eased up on his mount's reins until he had slowed to a walk.

Sagramore trotted back to him, laughing and smiling, "Finally. I was wondering when you would finally accept that I was a faster rider than you."

"Only for today, Sagramore." he replied, smiling a little, "We shall see if anything changes tomorrow."

Sagramore's smile faded and he suddenly turned serious. "There will not be a tomorrow Tristran." he said, softly, "My time with you is about to end."

"What do you mean?" asked Tristran, confused by his brother's behavior. He couldn't remember him ever acting like this.

"You are unhappy, Tristran." observed Sagramore, "And bother denying it, I know it very well. That is very well; it is as it should be. This parting would have been much more painful had you grown too attached to me again."

"Sagramore, what are you saying?"

"I was given only a little time with you." responded Sagramore, "But, now it is time for you to go back to life. This," He said, gesturing around at the fields and the sky, "has been but a vision, as insubstantial as air and just as quickly to fade. Your future awaits and as much as I wish you could stay, the destiny that you are meant to fulfill is not with me."

"You mean, you're dead and all this has been a dream?"

"That's one way of looking at it." said Sagramore, smiling, "But all dreams must come to an end. So it must be with this one. That is your way." He pointed to the west, "I must remain here."

Tristran stared at his brother, "So, this is goodbye?"

"Yes, though I will always be with you. Listen to the wind, Tristran; you will hear my voice upon its currents, guiding you through all that is coming."

Impulsively, Tristran reached out and hugged Sagramore. It was not a long embrace since Tristran was not fond of touching this way, but it spoke volumes that no amount of words could ever come close to matching.

"Goodbye, Sagramore." said Tristran, as he drew back.

"Goodbye, Tristran. Now go on, she is waiting for you."

With that, Sagramore turned and galloped off to the east. Tristran watched him, and he wasn't sure after that if he imagined his brother disappearing or if it had really been that Sagramore had simply vanished.

Tristran was alone, but not despairing. Instead, his spirit felt lightened, happy, and almost excited. Dismounting (he somehow felt that the horse was not his to take in this next part of this journey), he began walking off to the west, his feet never growing tired, though he seemed to walk miles and with ever increasing energy.

The landscape around him began to blur and change, from the endless, smooth plains of Sarmatia, to rolling grasslands, punctuated by deep forests of evergreen, oak and maple. Babbling streams and rushing rivers reached his ears over a great distance. Fog hung low on the ground and the wind whispered gently through the trees. The more Tristran saw of this landscape, the more that the feeling of strangeness he had felt in Sarmatia began to dissipate, replaced by peace and happiness. He didn't have to be told that he was home.

Suddenly, he stopped. Another sound was riding on the breeze and it wasn't water or nature, it was singing. Tristran, instantly captivated by the sound of the voice, found himself beginning to follow the voice, trying to hear where it was coming from. He soon began to hear the words that the voice was singing.

**_"When the cold of winter comes_**

**_Starless night will cover day_**

**_In the veiling of the sun_**

**_We will walk through bitter rain"_**

The voice was beautiful, mystical, soothing. Tristran could remember hearing something like it in this land, and it was not long before he was able to follow it easily. He followed it, though he couldn't tell where he was going.

**_"But in dreams_**

**_I can hear your name_**

**_And in dreams_**

**_We will meet again."_**

The voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Tristran, he couldn't shake the thought that his dearest memories, his very life, were tied to the person who was singing.

_"Go on, she is waiting for you."_

The last words Sagramore had spoke to him flashed through his mind and then, he remembered everything that had happened before all this had started. He remembered the battle of Badon Hill and the death match he had fought with the Saxon. He remembered the journey to and from Marius' estate and on than journey he had found.... Anaria. Her name brought another flood of memories to his mind, of their love, their separation, their miraculous reunion. He finally remembered every little detail of what his life had been like and realized with a start that he had been dead, but now... he was alive.

This realization steeled Tristran to claim the gift that had been given him. Starting out with renewed determination, he followed the voice which was now strong and clear upon the wind. He ignored the brambles and thorns that were obstacles in his path; nothing was going to stop him from finding Anaria again, nothing.

**_"When the seas and mountains fall_**

**_And we come to end of days_**

**_In the dark I hear a call_**

**_Calling me there_**

**_I will go there _**

**_And back again."_**

Tristran's eyes drifted open and he found that the dream had faded and he was back in life. He felt weaker and more tired that he had ever felt, either in life or death, or any place in between. He hurt in more places than he cared to count, but he was alive, and the sight that greeted him when he opened his eyes, he would not have traded for anything.

A woman stood by the medicine closet, her back to him. It was she who had been singing and to Tristran, she was as beautiful as any angel. Was it her? Was he really looking at her?

"Anaria." His voice was dry and weak. It sounded strange to him, and he wondered for a moment, if he had actually spoken, or it had just been his mind.

However, the woman froze, and stood rigid with surprise for a moment. Then, turning slowly, Tristran saw her eyes and he knew now that it was no dream that he was seeing: he was looking at Anaria.

"Tristran?" he voice was a whisper, as though she could hardly believe what she had heard and what she was seeing. She seemed afraid that it she said anything more, if she made any move, than he would be lost to her.

They stared at each other for a few moments and than Anaria hurried forward and had her arms wrapped around him. "Oh, Tristran." She said, tears of happiness wetting her eyes, "thank the fates that you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Currently being strangled by the woman I love, which makes it difficult to answer you're question with any degree of truth."

Anaria let go of him, embarrassed that she had forgotten what should have been obvious to a healer of her years. Tristran was hurt enough without her adding to it. "Sorry. Now can you tell me."

"It would be accurate to say that I don't feel as strong as I ever have before. To sum it up, everything hurts."

"I'm not surprised. The Saxon you were fighting was an expert. He knew how to kill and make it as painful as possible."

"How long was I...?"

"Nearly three days." said Anaria, "You've had us all worried. Bors threatened that if you didn't awake up than he would never forgive you."

"I never knew I was so popular." said Tristran, "What about the other knights. Were any of them lost?"

"No. they all survived. Lancelot was wounded. He was near death like you." said Anaria. She pointed to the bed beside Tristran. He hadn't noticed till now that Lancelot was stretched out on the bed, asleep, though he was slightly pale. "He was hit with a Saxon arrow. He woke up this morning. He'll be fine in the next few days, as will you."

Tristran smiled and laughed a little, "You keep saving my life, Anaria. It must be your hobby."

"Only because you keep insisting to put yourself in dangerous situations." said Anaria. She might have meant it as a joke, but there was something in her eyes that made it hard to take it as such. "In truth, Tristran, I was half afraid that you would never wake up. It was so hard to even be optimistic of your chances for the others, especially for Arthur. I couldn't tell them that I thought there was hardly a chance. I tried to be strong for them, but when I was alone, I couldn't keep myself from crying half the time." While she had been saying this, her voice had become more and more broken, until finally, she was crying herself. "Look at me," she said, "you're alive, everything I have ever wanted is about to come true and here I am still crying."

Tristran, with great effort, raised one of his hands and wiped her tears away, "Don't." he said, "You want me to get better, you should stop crying. Seeing you cry only makes me hurt more." (AN hopeless, utter romantic that I am I had to include that line.)

Anaria weaved her fingers around his own and leaned down until their foreheads touched, "I love you, Tristran."

"I love you."

Anaria gently moved her lips across Tristran's, each of them just content to be able to touch after they thought that they would never be able to do so again.

"Get some rest now, Tristran." said Anaria, when they had parted, "You need it."

Tristran nodded, sudden exhaustion taking hold of him, and he allowed his eyes to drift shut, her lovely face the last thing he saw before he surrendered to sleep and it was her face that was the first thing he saw in his dreams.

Anaria sat by Tristran's side until he was deep in sleep. She stared at his peacefully sleeping face and smiled. The love of her life was going was going to be all right. They were finally free to start a new life. She did not know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: now that they had cheated death together, they would be able to overcome anything.

So lost she was in the delicious dreams and hopes of the future that Anaria didn't notice at first that she was no longer alone. "Has he woken up yet?"

She turned her head and saw Guinevere leaning against the door. She smiled, "Yes, just a few minutes ago."

"I knew that something good had to have happened, otherwise you wouldn't be smiling like you were doing just now."

Anaria laughed and looked back at Tristran. Guinevere came over and put her hand on Anaria's shoulder, "You work miracles with just a few plants and herbs. There are not many healers who could have achieved what you managed to do in three days. They might have saved one, but not both, and certainly not in the same amount of time."

Anaria blushed under her cousin's praise, "It is what I do, Guinevere. It just comes to me. And I am glad that it has not completely faded into obscurity for eight years. I think I could be happy doing it for the rest of my life. I coming to realize that restoring life is more rewarding than taking it ever was. If I were you, I might tell Arthur that if he is having trouble finding someone to take over the position of healer in Camalann, I will gladly take it."

"I don't suppose that you know anything about restoring minds do you?" asked Guinevere, softly, the genial mood suddenly fading at the mention of Arthur's name.

"What do you mean?" asked Anaria, alerted by her cousin's sudden change of tone.

Guinevere sighed, "Its Arthur. He's been acting, well, and strange ever since the battle."

"Acting strange how?"

"He isn't talking much to anyone, not even me. He always seems so far away, his eyes are always haunted, as if he's reliving all the battles that he ever fought, all the sadness he has endured. He spends so much time on his own; he doesn't seem to know who he is."

"Have you tried asking him what the matter is?"

"I have. It's almost like he doesn't want to answer me, he always either avoids the question or mumbles some excuse and disappears. I am getting worried about him."

"I'm afraid that my knowledge only extends to repairing the damage that the body has endured. With something that seems to be so deep into someone's mind, then I think it is only a very select few that can find out exactly what the trouble is. I think that the only one who can help Arthur would be you, Guinevere."

"Me?" said Guinevere, "But, Anaria, I've tried a hundred times and he still hasn't opened up to me. I'm beginning to doubt that he ever will."

"Do you love him or not?" asked Anaria bluntly.

"Of course I love him."

"Than you'll just have to be willing to ask him a hundred and one times, even more if that's what it takes. It's probably the only way that he'll be able to get through to him."

Guinevere sighed, "Fine. I sometimes wish that you weren't so persuasive in your arguments."

"If I wasn't here to be your conscience, Guinevere, who would help you find your way on those rare occasions that you don't know the answer to a question?"

Guinevere smiled, "You have a point. Well, I had better get this over with, better now when my nerve is up than later when I'll probably talk myself out of doing it."

"Be sure to tell him that both Tristran and Lancelot will live. That might ease the way for conversation."

"I hope you're right, Anaria. With the way he has been acting, I am going to need all the help I can get." With that, Guinevere left the infirmary, leaving Anaria alone with her charges, who were now away from oblivion, in the land of the living once more.

*******

Day's ending rays were falling across the fortress of Badon Hill. All through the streets, people were putting away the wares they had been selling throughout the day and were getting ready to head home. A gentle hum of conversation filled the streets, a comforting sound that bespoke of contentment and happiness. Indeed, now that the Saxon threat had been eliminated, the people of the fortress felt that they had much to be thankful for, all thanks to the bravery of one man.

But, that one man had kept his true feelings about the last few days very much to himself. His thoughts on the outcome of the battle were completely different then those of any other person in Camalann. And though he accepted the gratitude of the people with proper respects, yet he found that he had been seeking solitude for a good part of the last few days.

Arthur didn't know how his feet had found their way to the wall top, nor did he know how he made his way to that part of the battlements that overlooked the place where, but three days before, the sounds of battle had echoed from horizon to horizon. Now, as he looked upon that same scene, he found that it was eerily quiet. The wind blew in coldly from the north. That was perhaps a blessing, for he knew that the smell from the field was still rank, and that the smell would cause even the strongest man to wretch.

He leaned upon the battlemented walls and looked out at the field. The place was still littered with bodies despite the fact that many townspeople and Woads had been working to clear away the debris. The bodies were twisted imitations of life, sightless eyes staring up to the skies. Sometimes arms, legs, even heads were missing from their hosts. It resembled some kind of twisted graveyard that had run out of room to bury bodies and was now throwing the dead and parts of the dead onto the bare earth for the crows to peck at.

Arthur's eyes took in this grisly scene and he once more felt a heavy weight descending upon his soul. He didn't know if it was from sadness, grief or despair or a combination of all three. Though he had won the battle, he had not been able to feel elated or joyful at the prospect. This fight had been one of the worst he had seen in his service to Rome, perhaps _the _worst. The smoke, the flames, the screaming dead and wounded, all he had heard and seen haunted him. It was not perhaps the fact that so many had died, but the fact that so many had needed had needed to die to preserve freedom.

He was sick of death and war. He wanted, now, above all else, peace; peace of mind, peace for his own land. But he also knew that if those desires were to come true, than someone would have to step into the void created by the departing Romans and build a new country. Despite all that Merlin had said, despite all that he was hearing, he doubted whether he was the sort of man who had the capability to lead a nation.

Such thoughts were weighing upon his heart when he heard the soft footfalls of someone approaching him on the rough stones of the wallop. Arthur didn't want anything more than to be alone, but when he turned and saw that it was Guinevere who was approaching, he found that her company was something of a balm to his troubled spirit. She was framed by the late day sun, her black hair billowing about her waist and her lovely eyes staring at him compassionately. Arthur was well aware of the fact that he had not been as attentive to Guinevere as he should have been in these last few days. But he had never been one who knew how to put his most private emotions into words.

Guinevere and Arthur looked at each other for a moment, as though they were trying to somehow guess the others' secrets. Finally Guinevere said, "I thought I might find you here."

"Really?" said Arthur, the weariness evident in his voice no matter how hard he tried to hide it, "And why were you looking for me at this late hour?"

"I have news to tell you. I just came from the infirmary. Tristran has woken up. Anaria says that they will both survive."

"Well, I am glad that this venture didn't claim two more lives," said Arthur, "there was already too much death. I would have hated to think that two of my own men would not survive."

Guinevere looked long and hard at him, before finally asking, "Arthur, what is the matter?"

"Guinevere, there isn't anything the matter-"

"And don't push me away as you have been doing so often lately. Trust me enough to let me know what is wrong. Let me help you, please."

Arthur could not resist Guinevere's frank nature. Further argument would be fruitless. He sighed and turned back to the battle field, "Come here, Guinevere." he said.

Guinevere, slightly puzzled, came forward and looked out over the valley. "Tell me what you see." Arthur said, softly.

"I see the aftermath of a battle," said Guinevere, "a battle that was fought by brave women and men to defend their freedom and their homeland. Many died, but none of them died in vain." She turned to Arthur, "Why do you ask me this, Arthur? What is it that you're eyes see?"

"I wish my eyes could see the same sight as yours. I see the futility of death and war. I cannot see how any good can come from this." He paused and then amended, "Or rather, I do not know how _I _can make any good come out of this. All my life I have fought for Rome, for freedom, for peace. But now I begin to doubt myself. Am I really what this country needs? Can I lead them beyond this petty squabbling and teach them to live in peace with other? I do not know if I can. For the first time in my life, I can't see where I am meant to go next."

Guinevere had never seen Arthur like this before. She had never seen so tormented by self doubt. "Arthur," she said softly, "you have been more of a difference in this country than you know. You stayed here, fought and triumphed in a battle that no other men could won. If you had gone when the Romans left, then everything which you had fought for in the last fifteen years would have counted for nothing. Now, you have the opportunity to make a new land where hope and freedom replace tyranny and hardship. Can you see how the people look up to you, Arthur? They would follow you, if given the chance. What you have accomplished is only the beginning."

Taking Arthur's hand, she guided him to the other side of the wall, which faced the green open fields of Britain's northern lands. The sun was setting, painting the sky an artist's palette of rose red, pale pink and deep purple on the horizon. Below this awesome portrait of nature's colors, the green grass waved and danced in its eternal ballet to the music of the wind.

"Now, tell me what _you _see, Arthur?" said Guinevere, echoing the question that he had asked her before. "And don't tell me anything until you are sure of what it is that you are meant to see."

Arthur willed his doubts to be silent and obeyed Guinevere's command. He thought of his mother, of his service to Rome, the battles he had fought and the lives he had taken. He thought of the Woads, of Merlin, the people of Britain that he felt more of a connection to now than he had ever felt possible. But most of all, he thought of Guinevere; Guinevere, the woman who had captured his heart and spirit in so short a time. He thought of all this and allowed himself to listen to the voice which had always before guided his footsteps and had never failed him, the voice which he now heard in the wind. "Look to your future, leave the past behind you. You know where you must go, what you must do. But, be not afraid, for I will be with you always."

He listened for a long moment. He looked out at the land and he finally understood. "I see a future filled with possibility," He said softly, but with all the conviction of his heart, "a world of hope, freedom, justice, peace. I see where I can go next."

Guinevere nodded and smiled. "That's what I hoped you would say."

A long silence ensued between them, and during that time, they could not look away from each other's eyes.

"Tell me, Guinevere." Said Arthur, at last, "There is one thing I know that I want in my future. But will I ever be able to see it happen? Do I wish for it in vain?"

Guinevere stared at Arthur's eyes and she saw his love for her reflected in their green depths. It was a look which made her warm all over. "Arthur, are you asking me to..."

"Yes, Guinevere." said Arthur, "I want to share my life with you, Guinevere. I love you and I don't want anyone to be my wife but you."

"Arthur..."

"I know that I don't have any right to ask you and you don't have to answer now." Said Arthur, rather quickly, "But you must know that I have loved you almost since the moment I saw you. The more time I spent with you, the more it grew. You aggravated me beyond all measure, made me second question everything I once believed, but you made me want to be more than I eve had been before. I don't think that I would be able to do any good in the future without you by my side."

"Arthur, do you honestly think that I need any time to answer. I love you as much as you love me and I always will. My answer is yes, I do want to marry you."

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, as though immensely relieved. "You don't know how much I was frightened that you would turn me down."

"Did you ever fear that?" asked Guinevere, teasingly.

In answer, Arthur tilted up Guinevere's face and pressed his lips against her own in a gentle, warm kiss. All worries, fears and questions about the future dissolved. In that moment, as the last dying rays of the sun warmed the air around them, coloring the sky a thousand shades of gold, red, and purple, the future held nothing but promise.

* * *

I hope that everyone liked that. As always, read and review.

Next chapter: In the tradition of the hopeless romantics (of which I am a proud member), the next chapter will contain romance aplenty, as Tristran finally gets to ask the question that he has always wanted to ask. Plus, there will be some fun bits with the knights and Anaria.


	3. Healing

Yes, I am back again. No I have not fallen over dead, but the last few weeks have been hectic and this story is proving a little challenging for me. Luckily I love a challenge and all writing cannot be easy. Anyway, I hope that everyone likes this chapter. It will have humor and a lot Of romance, what more could we ask for? Enjoy.

Healing:

Lancelot and Tristran spent the next two weeks recovering from the wounds that they had received in the Battle of Badon Hill. During that time, Anaria hardly ever left their sides. The infirmary almost became like a second home for her. Most often she had to improvise about treatments, since the stock of medicines in the infirmary was woefully short. She had already decided that the state of affairs in the infirmary needed to be improved, and had resolved that she would go about doing that as soon as Tristran and Lancelot had fully recovered.

Lancelot was the first to recover, and leave the sickbay. Tristran, however, was another matter. He had pushed himself to the limit in his battle with Cerdic, holding nothing back in his determination to defeat him. As a result he had endured even more trauma to his body. A lesser man would have been killed, but for Tristran, once he awoke, it was only a matter of time until the road to recuperation began to pick up speed.

It was during this time of healing that Tristran began to feel that his life had reached a crossroads. He found himself thinking things that he had never before considered as a possibility. He had been a warrior all his life, moving from one battle to the next, always mindful that every one of them could be his last. The prospect of dying in battle had never before frightened him, in fact, when he had lost Anaria he had almost longed that he did die in battle, so that he could at least have some honor in his memory, something he could never have achieved with suicide. But he had perhaps never realized the fragility of life and just how easily it could be taken away. He had Anaria now, and he wanted to build a life with her. He found himself considering things that had never occurred to him before. A part of him was longing for stability, peace, a family that he could call his own, one that wouldn't be taken away from him. He wanted that with Anaria.

But actually finding the words to say such things was a challenge for him. For Tristran, going one on one with a Saxon in a death match was easier for him than discussing things of such an intimate nature. However, it was a discussion that he could not very easily avoid.

Nearly three weeks to the day since he had awoke from his coma, Tristran was finally able to leave the confines of the infirmary.

"The bleeding had stopped." She said, as she inspected the scars left from his wounds one last time. "You're almost completely healed, though you'll have plenty of scars from the encounter to help you remember the event."

"I don't think I want to remember it." said Tristran.

"Believe me, if you had died, I would have been the one who felt the worst pain." said Anaria, as she finished what she needed to do and wiped her hands on a rag, "There, I'm finished now. You're free to leave the sickbay. Try to take it easy for a few days. You'll feel dizzy on occasion but that can hardly be helped. Anything serious, come see me."

"Don't worry, I will."

Anaria gathered up her things and began putting them away. She stopped however, when she realized that Tristran was still there, looking at her. "Tristran, what's the matter?"

"I was just thinking, I would have been dead now if it hadn't been for you."

"Tristran, you don't need to thank me again for a labor that I wanted to do."

"That's not what I'm saying, Anaria. When I was battling that Saxon, for the first time in my life, I was afraid that I might die in battle."

"We all at some point thought that we were going to die during those few hours, Tristran. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not talking about a passing shudder or a faltering of spirit. What I felt was much deeper. It was a fear that I had never felt before. My biggest fear than wasn't dying a painful death or leaving this world behind. It was the fact that I would never see you again."

Anaria turned to face him. "Tristran, what are you saying?"

Tristran tried to find the words that would explain everything that he wanted to tell her, but they were as elusive as the wind and puffed away whenever he thought that he might be getting close. 'This isn't working out exactly as I had hoped.' he thought in frustration. "Have you ever been in a situation when you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were going to die?"

That was a strange question to Anaria's ears. She didn't really know where this conversation was going, or in fact, what it was about in the first place, but she had a feeling it was about something important. "When we were being tortured eight years ago, I thought for sure that I would never come out of that chamber alive. I though that if the physical pain didn't killed me, the mental anguish would."

"And do you remember what was going through your mind?"

"I felt angry that I wasn't able to prevent it, and also at that people who were making us endure it. But what I felt even more was despair that I had to see you suffer the same things that I was going through."

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Anaria. In that one moment, when I thought I was going to die, my greatest and deepest fear was never being able to see you again."

"Tristran, what are tying to tell me?" asked Anaria.

Tristran took a deep breath and plunged ahead, "Anaria, I-"

It was at that precise moment that the quiet of the infirmary was shattered when the door slammed open and a woman's urgent voice said, "Anaria, there you are. I need your help. Six has- oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still here, Tristan."

Tristran tried to get control of his utter frustration. Why couldn't have Vanora waited ten minutes more, five minutes even? She had entered at exactly the wrong moment. This was supposed to be easier. Sighing, he turned to Vanora and said, "It's all right, Vanora, I was just leaving." Turning to Anaria he said softly, "We'll talk later."

"What was that all about?" asked Vanora, when Tristran had gone.

"I don't know." said Anaria, who had never seen Tristran so unsure of himself. She didn't know that he had been mulling over so many things the past couple of weeks, but now she felt as though she had missed something that she had should have picked up right from the start. She decided to let it go for now, she knew that Tristran would talk to her when the time was right. "What did you want, Vanora?"

"I need your help, Anaria. I know that you've just come off from healing two patents and you're probably tired of the same routine, but one of the children is in need of your skill."

"Of course, you can always come to me for help, you know that. What's the matter?"

"It's number Six. The one you rescued, remember?"

Anaria nodded, trying not to grin as she remembered the feisty ten-year-old that she had rescued from a group of Romans when she had first come to Camalann. The child had a lot of fire in her soul and she had taken to Anaria almost from the start.

"Well, she was wrestling with her brothers and I think she did something to her wrist. She can't move it, at least not very well. I was hoping you'd be able to do something."

"Probably a sprained wrist." said Anaria, thoughtfully, "I have had a quite a lot of experience with those, though it was only the boys that got them."

"I think that you know that Number Six if hardly a proper lady."

"That must be why I like her." said Anaria, smiling, "Let me get the things I need."

Together the two women left the main barracks of the fort and headed through the streets of the town. The sun was casting its final rays upon the land before it sank below the horizon and surrendered its place in the sky to the moon, which was even now glowing like a silver coin in the sky. The people of Hadrian's Wall had finished their daily chores and were heading home to their families. Others were getting ready to enjoy themselves for the night. Ever since the victory over the Saxons, there had been an impromptu celebration nearly every night, many of which could last long into the night, with the wine and ale flowing freely. It seemed as though that little custom would be continuing tonight.

Anaria and Vanora threaded their way through the mingling people to the house that Vanora and her children stayed called home. Bors was the only one of the Sarmation knights who didn't usually stay in the barracks at night, though sometimes he would retreat there when his sometimes tempestuous relationship with Vanora caused her to banish him from the house for a few nights. In that respect, he was probably luckier than some married men who don't have anywhere during those inevitable times.

The yard was a scene of chaos as children of various ages ran hither and yon, some chasing, some fleeing from their would-be pursuers, others just running in no particular direction for the sheer fun of it. All except one, who sat in the open doorway of the house and watched the other children playing with a wistful look.

Almost immediately, Vanora began picking out who was causing trouble, something that couldn't be avoided in a family of this size. "Five, stop poking your brother in the eye. Two, don't let Four get too far from your sight."

Anaria looked at the pandemonium around her, trying to understand how Vanora could handle something like this every day without getting overwhelmed. "Is it always like this?" She asked in awe.

Vanora simply shrugged, "No, actually. You should see them on a bad day."

"How on earth do you keep them all straight?"

"They're my children." was Vanora's simple reply, "I would be worried if I didn't have some idea about how to keep them in line."

"I see. Well, it would be easier for me to look at Six if I actually had some quiet in which to do it."

"I understand." said Vanora, "I often have to get out of the house just to be able to hear myself think." She then raised her voice, she called to the children in the yard, "Right, all of you. Go and join the children in the town. There's another celebration on tonight. You won't want to miss out on it."

It took several minutes for the yard to clear out, as some of the children didn't want to leave. But, Vanora eventually managed to shoo them out of the yard. As Anaria watched her, she had to admire the way that Vanora handled her children, she was gentle and yet stern at the same time. She didn't need to use force to get her point across, all she had to do was express her displeasure and all of them jumped to attention. It was obvious that Vanora had a great deal of love for her children and they returned that affection with equal sincerity. Anaria, as she watched Vanora, she found herself wondering what motherhood was actually like, and if she would ever have the opportunity to experience it herself.

Soon, all the children had left the yard, leaving Six behind. It was obvious that she didn't want to be left out of the fun her siblings would have that evening.

"Don't worry, Six." said Vanora, as thought perceiving why the child looked so unhappy, "You'll be able to join your siblings soon enough."

Anaria set down her things and sat down in front of Six. "Now, how did you manage to hurt yourself, Six?" she asked, still trying to get accustomed to addressing the child as a number, a caveat of Bors, who claimed that it made his numerous children easier to keep track of.

"I was wrestling with my brothers and I think that I landed on it strangely. I didn't notice that it was hurting until after it was over."

"Did you win?" asked Anaria, smiling mischievously.

Six's eyes brightened and she momentarily forgot her pain as she grinned back at Anaria. "Yes. I beat them easily."

"Good. At least you can say that you got this wound in battle and that you emerged victorious." Taking the wrist that the girl had been holding, she said gently, "now, I'm going to feel this wrist of yours to see if I can find out what is wrong with it. It will hurt, but, it won't last long."

Six nodded. "I'm not afraid of pain." she said, stubbornly.

Anaria began running her fingers over Six's wrist and despite her brave show, when Anaria came to the place that hurt the most, she did whimper and close her eyes. But, she never shed a tear, which Anaria was impressed by. The girl was tough for one so young.

After a few minutes, Anaria stopped inspecting the wrist and said, "It's a sprain. Not bad, though. It will be all right in a few weeks if I set this arm and you try to stay out of trouble during that time."

"That will be difficult." muttered Vanora.

"I'll try." said Six, "But when I'm better than I can I get in trouble?"

Anaria grinned and said, "Only if you can avoid your mother."

"Don't encourage her." said Vanora, exasperatedly, "She already has enough of that."

Anaria laughed and began bandaging Six's arm. It took only the work of about fifteen minutes for her to do her work and when she finished, she said, "There. Now you can join the others."

Six looked at her mother expectantly. "Oh, get on with you." said Vanora, "I can't keep you looked up in the house for two weeks, I would never have any peace. Go on."

Six whooped, leapt to her feet and began running in the direction that her siblings had taken into the town. But, before she left, she turned around and said, almost shyly to Anaria, "Thank you, Anaria." Then, she ran off.

Vanora looked and Anaria and said, "She looks up to you, you know. Ever since you saved her from those Roman soldiers, she won't stop talking about you."

"You're not against that I hope."

"No, no, of course not. It might actually be a good thing. It will be good for her to have someone like you to look up to. She's always been fiery, that one and she needs someone who can show her what she can do with it. Her father tries, but he wasn't here often enough to be a constant teacher to her."

"I would be thinking that you would be able to teach her that. After all, you're not exactly the quiet and demure maid that Roman tradition demands women to be."

"But, I can't teach her the use of weaponry or the ways of the woods. That's what she really wants to learn. She's always playing warrior maiden, playing the hero of her own stories. I also never learned anything of that kind. Plus, I have too many other children to keep track of, not to mention Bors, who is sometimes harder to manage than all of them put together."

"Well, if that's what you want me to pass on to her, than I'll do that. But, let it rest a few more years. She has always the makings of a warrior, but there's point in rushing things. Let her be a child and enjoy it before she learns the dark side of battle. I can teach her the ways of the woods. Those are skills that can never be taught to early."

"Thank you, Anaria. I'm sure that she will be thrilled to know that."

Anaria was thoughtful doe a few seconds. "Have you ever considered a name for her?"

"I've been working on convincing Bors that giving the children names will be better than simply having them numbered. So far, he's not very receptive to the idea."

"With you to convince him, I'll sure he'll come around eventually. But, if you ever should name her, I would suggest, Sanda." At Vanora's look of confusion, she explained, "It means 'man's defender.'"

Vanora smiled as she caught the hidden meaning, "Well, that would certainly fit, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I think that it would. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the..."

"You can forget about going back to the infirmary. You've been cooped up in there for weeks and I'm not about to let you go back when you don't have any patients to attend to." She held up a hand to forestall any objection that Anaria may have had. "And you can forget about trying to get out of it, because I'm not taking no for answer. You need a change of surroundings, Anaria, and tonight is a perfect opportunity for that."

Anaria sighed and said, "Oh, all right. You win. I have been feeling a bit claustrophobic the past few days. This might be refreshing."

"Of course it will. Now, come on. The knights will probably be out at the tavern tonight. I'm sure they would love to see you."

The two of them began walking back into town. The sun had slipped below the horizon by this time and darkness had moved in to take over the light. In the town streets, the sound of music and laughing combined to create a pleasing harmony of sublime contentment. Anaria sighed deeply, feeling all the burdens and worries that she had been feeling over the past couple of weeks slipping away. Vanora was right; this was exactly what she had needed.

"You're a natural with them." She said to Vanora, "Your children, I mean. They really look up to you and love you."

Vanora smiled, "Well, thank you for the complement. I'm not perfect with them all the time you know. No mother is. But I hope that I have them right. Bors is a big help, even if he may hide it. He's always so gentle with the babies; one would think that he couldn't be so rough and tumble with the older ones. He is a good father to them." She cast Anaria a sly look. "Have you ever considered it?"

"What?"

"You know, Anaria, motherhood."

Anaria stopped in her tracks and stared at Vanora, shocked that the woman could have guessed what she had been thinking about not half an hour before. "Well, I... I've never had the opportunity."

"Well, now you do, Anaria." said Vanora, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "Don't tell me that you've never considered the possibility. And, now that you have the chance, I am sure that you would want a certain unnamed dark scout to be the father of your children."

"Tristran and I have never talked about children. We certainly haven't discussed it recently. I'm not sure if Tristran even wants children."

"Well, you can never know. After all, after having just come off such a close brush with death, I don't think that he will be waiting long to ask you. And after that, who knows what might happen."

Anaria merely rolled her eyes and let the matter drop.

Both Anaria and Vanora didn't speak anymore for the rest of their way to the tavern. When they arrived, they found that the party was in full swing. The knights, Lancelot included, were in the thick of it. Nearly all of them were drinking, and everyone seemed to be in the highest of spirits. Whether that was from the ale, the celebration, or a combination of the two, Anaria wasn't really sure.

Bors was the first to see Anaria ad Vanora approaching, "Well, look who's finally decided to grace us with her presence."

"Ah, yes, the woman who make miracles." said Lancelot, who came forward to give her a hug, "Not to mention the woman who saved my life and the also, spared many young women a sad and sorry fate."

"And just what do you mean by that?" asked Anaria, feeling at ease in the company of the men who had become her friends and companions in the last few months.

"Well, if I had died, just imagine the impact that would have had on the countless numbers of young women who have never known the pleasure of my company."

"When you put it like that, perhaps I should have left you on the battlefield and spared those young women from dying of boredom, which they no doubt would be if they ever have to spend an evening with you."

The knights roared with laughter at Lancelot's dumbfounded expression, "Oh, you'd better quit while you can, Lancelot." warned Gawain, "She's on fire tonight. You won't be able to win against her."

"Out of all the women in the world, Tristran had to choose you to fall in love with." said Lancelot, his exasperation evident.

Anaria laughed light-heartedly. "Lancelot, there's no need to look so sullen. You beat me plenty of times. And besides, tonight there shouldn't be any contention between friends." She held out her hand to him, "What do you say, truce?"

Lancelot smiled, and took her hand warmly, "Truce." Then dropping his voice, he said, "For tonight anyway. I intend to pay you back."

"I would be disappointed if you didn't."

Dagonet came up to give her a hug. "It's good to see you, Anaria. I'm glad to see that you haven't decided to take up permanent residence in the infirmary."

"After the last few weeks I have had, Dagonet, I hope it will be awhile before I have to spend anymore time there. How is Fulcina?"

Dagonet's smile widened at the mention of Fulcina, the Roman woman who he had met a month before on their last mission for Rome. Fulcina had been the wife of a cruel man named Marius Honorius, who had mistreated and abused her, along with anyone else who dared to disobey his orders. Her sorrow had not been great when he had died on that mission, leaving her a free woman for the first time in her life. She had been torn, however, because she had found herself falling in love with the gentle Dagonet, but she also felt that her son needed her in Rome. In the end, though, and of all the details Anaria was not sure, she had made the choice to stay on Britain. Where it would go from there would be up to them, but Anaria was hopeful that they would both find happiness with each other.

"She is doing very well; I will tell her that you asked. I know she has wanted to see you the past few weeks."

"I think that I can make time for her." said Anaria smiling.

Anaria then found her attention drawn to what was going on between Gawain and Galahad. Galahad threw a knife and instead of landing on the target, it flew wild and buried itself in a beam at the back of the tavern, barely missing several heads. Galahad turned red with embarrassment as he received several angry glares from the denizens of the tavern. Anaria shook her head, "Didn't anyone ever teach you to throw a knife properly?"

"Oh, you think you can do better?" blustered Galahad.

"I can try, and I won't nearly chop the ears off of twenty other people."

"Well, be my guest." said Galahad, handing one of the knives they had been using.

Anaria assumed her stance and took careful aim. She could almost hear the voice of Tristran, who had taught her the trick for landing a knife in the center of the target.

Both the mouths of Galahad and Gawain dropped open when the knife whizzed through the air and buried itself dead center in the bull's-eye of the target. The two knights gaped at the sight for a moment and than Gawain said, "How in the world did you learn how to do that?"

"Simple, I aim for the middle"

"Aim for the middle." repeated Galahad with her, "That's exactly what Tristran says."

Anaria grinned slyly, "Where do you think I learned it?"

"I may never be able to live this down." muttered Galahad.

"Than I suggest you start practicing more, so you can prevent its happening again." said Anaria, who had heard what he had hoped would go unheard.

Bors laughed heartily and patted the seat on the bench beside him, "Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut for the rest of the evening, or you'll have us all beaten by the time the evening is over."

"Well, what do you suggest I do for entertainment?" asked Anaria, as she accepted the seat beside Bors.

"You might be able to not only entertain yourself, but you might also be able to entertain the rest of this crowd too."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I tell you, I want to ask you something, for the purposes of clarification. Is it true that you have the most enchanting voice in all of Britain?"

Anaria turned and stared at him with a raised eyebrow, "And where, pray, did you hear such exalted praise of me?"

"Well, Lancelot here was talking about how you're singing was one of the loveliest thing he has ever heard. I was just wondering if there was any truth to it."

Anaria looked at Lancelot who had become suddenly very interested in studying the various stains that adorned the tavern table. "Lancelot, can you explain this?"

"Well, I... it's just... it came up and I just couldn't resist..."

"I see." said Anaria, "Well, what were you hoping to gain by it?"

"Well, it turns out, Anaria," said Bors to her in a whisper, "Vanora usually sings to this crowd very often. I guess you could say it's sort if a tradition. But, every so often she can get pretty insistent so I didn't press the matter. I've learned not to mess with Vanora when she's in one of her stubborn moods. Anyway, getting back to the point, I just thought that you might be able to oblige us."

"Oblige you? You mean take her place?"

"Yeah, you know, just for tonight."

Anaria laughed nervously and said, "No, if it's all the same to you, I'll just sit this one out."

"Oh, come now, Anaria," said Lancelot, smiling roguishly, "if I recall rightly, you never needed much encouragement to perform eight years ago. In fact, you took to it with astonishing alacrity."

"That was a long time ago, Lancelot. But it has been many years since I did anything of the kind. I'm out of practice."

"All the more reason for you to take it up again." said Lancelot, cheekily, "So, you'll have to step up, unless of course, you're too afraid of criticism to do so."

Lancelot knew Anaria almost as well as Tristran, plus he was also getting the chance to repay her for the little defeat she had given him earlier. He was rewarded when he saw the defiant fire was flashing in them, "I am not afraid of your censure or anyone else's."

"Oh, really?" said Lancelot, "Than prove it."

Anaria sighed, knowing that she was defeated, and said, "All right, fine, but don't forget that you forced me to do this."

"Oh yes. But of course, the burden of guilt is easily lifted when I think that you've actually been wanting to do it all along." said Lancelot.

Anaria smiled and punched Lancelot's arm, before she whispered in his ear, "I'll get you for this, Lancelot."

Bors, meanwhile, had stepped forward into the courtyard and was in the process of silencing the noisy denizens of the tavern, in his typical manner, "Shut up, shut up all of you! Anaria has agreed to sing for us." With such various demands for quiet as this, it was not long before Bors' loud voice silenced not only the tavern, but also, everyone within a twenty foot radius of the establishment.

Anaria stepped forward into the firelight, feeling rather nervous, for every eye in the place had turned on her and every ear was seemingly riveted upon hearing the first note which came out of her mouth. She cast a glance at Dagonet, needing some sort of assurance. He smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Emboldened by his show of support, she took a deep breath and began.

**"Long ago, your name**

**A shadow in my dreams**

**The wild brave, still searching**

**Trailing winds fall apart**

**I believe your heart."**

Truth be told, Anaria had not been expecting the sound which came out of her mouth. It had been eight years since she had raised her voice in song; the action had brought back to many memories of a past that she had wanted to forget. Now, in the presence of friends, it made her feel strangely happy and released. That unhappy past now seemed very far away, beyond any capacity to cause her pain any longer. It sounded strangely like the feeling that one can get from watching the stars coming out on a summer night.

The people in the tavern were now listening with rapt attention to the pure, curiously enchanting voice. The hauntingly mysterious intertwining of word and melody was echoed in their minds; the song was trying to tell a story, and yet what that story was differed from each person, creating an experience that was at the same time unique and also sharing.

Feeling her confidence begin to grow, she stood straighter, her voice beginning to gather more strength.

**"Tell me now, what you see**

**Tell me what you feel**

**Now you're here**

**Tell me**

**Tell me now **

**What you know **

**Never let me go **

**Tell me now what you see."**

Arthur and Guinevere had been walking toward the tavern to tell the knights about their engagement. They had kept it a secret these past few weeks, only known between the two of them. They had wanted to obtain Merlin's permission, which he, not surprisingly, had joyfully given. Plus, not surprisingly for any two people in this same situation, they had wanted just between themselves. But, tonight, they were ready to tell the others.

However, they stopped in their tracks when they heard the voice of Anaria riding upon the night wind. They looked at each other, bewildered. Then they hastened onto the tavern, surprised to find that the singer was none other than Anaria. The usual rowdiness was nonexistent and she was demanding complete attention.

**"Hope cries from the hills**

**The mist clears from your eyes**

**Let's remember the start**

**I believe your heart."**

There was also another enthralled person in the audience, but no one could see him, for he moved in the shadows, but oh, how clearly could he see her. She was the most beautiful woman in the tavern that night, indeed, if Tristran had been asked, he would have replied without hesitation that she was the most beautiful woman in the world (but, in this instance, some bias must be allowed). And her voice; He closed his eyes. It sounded to him, ten times lovelier than when he had first heard it. Had he already not been in love with her, he would have done so all over again.

**"Tell me now what you know**

**Never let me go**

**Tell me what you see.**

**Tell me now what I see**

**Tell me what you feel **

**Now you're here, tell me**

**Tell me now what you know**

**Never let me go**

**Tell me what you see."**

The last tremulous note died away on the night breeze. The silence didn't last long, for the entire company broke into applause, causing her to blush despite herself. She honestly had not expected such a rapturous audience or the reaction she had gotten. But, honestly, she enjoyed it. Maybe she had made a mistake in not singing these past eight years.

"That was amazing!" said Bors, as the applause began to die down and activity around them began to resume, "I never dreamed that there was a sound on this island that could make it beautiful."

"Breathtaking." said Lancelot, Even better than I remember it."

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it." said Anaria, and the man watching her from the shadows could have sworn that the smile which graced her face lit up the place, as though a star had come down from the heavens and taken up residence in her face.

"Anaria, that was wonderful!" Anaria heard her cousin's voice coming up from behind her and she turned to find herself enveloped in her cousin's embrace.

Guinevere broke away from her cousin and smiled happily, "Why did you never tell me you could sing?"

"I didn't think that I would be able to, Guinevere." Said Anaria, simply, and she didn't have to say anymore, Guinevere understood.

"Well, it was lovely." She looked around at the people crowded into the tavern and dropped her voice, "I have something to tell you. Come with me."

They went off to the side that didn't have as many people, and Guinevere turned to her cousin saying excitedly, "Anaria, I have wonderful news."

"Oh really, well it must be good? I haven't seen you this excited since we were both children. What is it?"

"Anaria, Arthur and I are engaged."

Anaria stared at her cousin. "You mean, to be married?"

"Yes, of course, Anaria, the last time I checked that was the definition of engaged."

"Well, congratulations, Guinevere." said Anaria, as she enveloped her in a hug, "When did you decide on this?"

"Nearly three weeks ago. We were waiting for the right moment to tell everyone. I wanted you to be the first one to know."

"What did Merlin say? Have you asked him yet?"

"He was overjoyed, though it didn't seem to come as that much of a surprise to him."

"Guinevere, you know as well as I do that hardly anything ever gets by your father. And besides, anyone could have told from the start that the two of you are meant to be together. And all the luck won't just on his side. He might be able to curb that stubborn steak of yours."

"I'm not stubborn." protested Guinevere, defensively.

"See, that just proves my point."

"Stop it, Anaria." said Guinevere, laughing good-naturedly.

Anaria laughed along with her. "Seriously, though, Guinevere, I couldn't be happier for you. I am sure that you and Arthur will be very happy together. More so than anyone else could have made you."

She hugged Guinevere tightly. The news of such a union was only a cause for celebration.

None of the words which passed between Guinevere and Anaria were heard by anyone else in the tavern. Over at the table that the knights were occupying, there began to be a great deal of curiosity amongst the men as to why the two were speaking so secretively.

"What do you suppose those two are talking about?" asked Galahad.

"I've made a point of avoiding conversations between women." said Bors, "The topics which they talk about are never pretty."

"They seem to be pretty seriously discussing something very important." said Lancelot, "Whatever it could be I don't know, but I would bet that it has something to do with Arthur's uncommonly good mood."

"And what is that supposed to mean if I may ask?" asked Arthur.

Lancelot chuckled, "Arthur, three weeks ago you were as low as the earth you walked on. Now, every time I have seen you these past two weeks, you seem to floating ten feet above the ground. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you grinning so much in all the fifteen years that I've known you."

"These past fifteen years there hasn't been much to be joyful about." said Arthur, who was smiling in such a way that made one think he was carrying the best secret under the sun.

"And lately?" asked Lancelot, hoping that his friend would drop some hint if pushed enough.

"Well, let's just say that things are definitely looking up." He said, still not letting anything drop.

"Oh, come on, Arthur." said Lancelot, "Anyone can plainly see that you're carrying a secret. Are you going to keep it from you're own friends, the man who have served under you for the past fifteen years. I certainly would have hoped that you held us all in higher regard than that."

Arthur had never been very good at keeping a secret, especially one that he really wanted to be known. "Well, when you put it like that, Lancelot, I suppose I'll have to tell you."

"That's more like it, Arthur." said Lancelot, "Come on now, tell us what you're hiding."

"Well, Lancelot, you may have noticed that I have not been around-"

"That's an understatement." interrupted Galahad, "You're been spending so much time with Guinevere, you act almost as if you were married."

The rest of the knights looked as Galahad sternly, annoyed that he had interrupted. However, Arthur didn't seem perturbed at all; in fact his smile grew all the wider. "Actually, Galahad, you'd be surprised to know just how close that is to the truth, for you see, Guinevere and I are-"

He was interrupted yet again, but this time by the arrival of Guinevere and Anaria, who were approaching from the place where they had been talking, smiling and laughing like two young girls. Whatever the knights had thought would happen next, they certainly hadn't expected her to embrace Arthur. Arthur was a little surprised to.

"Oh, Arthur, congratulations. I'm so happy for you."

"Uh, thank you, Anaria." said Arthur feeling slightly awkward about being welcomed into the family so soon. "I'm glad that you approve."

"How could I not approve?" said Anaria, as she released him, "You had better realize that you're getting the best woman in the world. You take of her, or I'll cut your head off."

The three of them laughed, while the knights looked on, completely dumbfounded by what they were hearing, Arthur's secret dawning on them all without Arthur even having to tell them.

"Anaria," said Guinevere, putting her arm around Arthur, "is that any way to talk to your future brother-in-law?"

"I just want to make sure that he knows where I stand, that's all."

"Well, I can promise you, Anaria," said Arthur, putting his arms around Guinevere, "I will be the last to cause Guinevere any harm, and anyone who tries to do so will wish that he had never been born."

Anaria smiled at the two of them, "I don't doubt it. The sincerest wishes I can give to you for your happiness I don't know how to state, except that I tell you I wish it with all my heart."

"Thank you, Anaria. It will be an honor to have you for a relative."

The knights, meanwhile, had been watching the whole scene, utterly shocked by what they were hearing. Sure, they had known that their commander had been attracted to Guinevere at the start. But, this happening, this fast? It had never occurred to any of them.

Lancelot was the first to find his voice, "Wait a minute, Arthur, am I reading this scene right?"

Arthur turned to face his friend and Anaria thought that his face would crack the smile on it being so wide, "That depends upon how you're reading it, Lancelot?"

"Well, I... are you and Guinevere really...?"

"Yes, Lancelot, we are. We are."

A stunned moment of silence followed this announcement, but it was only a moment. Bors was the first to express his feelings on the subject, as was common for him, "Well, finally, Arthur. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to tie the knot."

Once Bors had spoken it was only a matter of time for the others to add their well wishes and congratulations to the ones that had already been made. Even after only knowing Guinevere for such a short time, they had come to regard her with a great deal of respect. They had been able to see that Guinevere was the only one that deserved Arthur.

Anaria took this opportunity to step back and let others fawn over her cousin and her fiancée. And it was only then, away from the press of the crowd that she began to sense his eyes upon her. She turned and found his silhouette hiding in the shadows. She instinctively knew that he had been there for quite some time and he had been watching her every move. The thought made her subconsciously shiver with excitement.

She came toward where he was leaning against one of the posts of the tavern. "So, there you are. I was wondering if you were even going to show up at all."

"I had inducement." he said, a double meaning evident in his dark eyes. Turning to look at the knights, Arthur and Guinevere, he said softly, "I'm glad to see that Arthur finally has someone."

"You say that as though this doesn't happen very often."

Tristran shook his head, "Arthur was as fastidious about women as I was before I met you. I don't think that he took that many lovers, and all those were in his mid-teens. He hasn't touched a woman since than, I don't think. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. He needed someone badly, though, I think. The knights were all right, but they could only give him so much. Guinevere will go a long way toward helping Arthur achieve what ever the future holds for him."

Anaria nodded as she watched Arthur and Guinevere, who may have been laughing and talking with the knights, but only continued staring at each other, "I think that you're right."

She and Tristran watched them for a few minutes, before Tristran said, "They seem to be celebrating hard." Nodding to the knights, "I'm not surprise if they'll be completely drunk by midnight. Why don't we lave them to their own devices for a bit?"

"Bur, Tristran-"

"It will only be for awhile and I can't say that we'll be terribly missed." Tristran looked down and Anaria could have sworn that he was suddenly feeling awkward, "Besides there is something that I need to discuss with you, in private."

Anaria didn't need to be told anymore. Something told her that Tristran was going to take up the conversation that he had been so uncomfortable with earlier that day. So, she simply nodded and the two headed off into the dark night. No one noticed them slipping away from the festivities of the tavern. There was much to be celebration in the tavern to perceive their absence.

Anaria and Tristran wandered through the town until they were beyond Camalann's protective fortification. The green swards and fields that made up Badon Hill stretched out before them like a great carpet, dotted by the deep, verdant forests of pine and oak. The wind nipped fresh and cool from the northwest, restoring the spirit and the land long scarred by war. Above them, the sky resembled a dark swath of deep purple velvet that stretched from horizon to horizon, and the stars seemed to be brighter and bigger than Anaria had seen them in a long time. Above it all, the full moon radiated majestic golden light, as if it were meant to be day and not night.

Anaria felt peaceful and content. The earth seemed to be washed clean of old wounds and was being reborn to a great new future. "Isn't beautiful?" she asked, hardly knowing that she had spoken the words until they were out of her mouth.

"Yes." said Tristran, slightly distracted. He knew that he had to ask her now, or he never would. It was now or never.

"And you helped make it so, Tristran. If you hadn't been here, none of this would have been possible."

"Anaria, about what I was going to tell you…"

Anaria turned to look at Tristran, "You're going to tell me what you didn't get a chance to tell me earlier, aren't you?"

"Yes, however eloquent it may or may not be. Anaria, through all these years that we were separated, much has changed for both of us. The world in which we lived has changed as well. Seasons have changed, winter has become spring. But, there has always been one thing that has remained the same, I have loved you through everything and I know now, that having faced death, I will love until the end of time."

He paused and he seemed to be struggling for the right words. "Go on." prompted Anaria, a hope for something that she hadn't known she wanted beginning to take shape in her heart.

"Anaria, I have lived for nearly eight years in a fog, I was never sure of what I was feeling except that a great emptiness existed where my heart should have been. And now, I'm more whole than I ever dreamed possible." Sighing he walked a few steps away from her and looked up at the sky, "I never knew that I could feel like this. I feel like I am seeing everything in a new light. This night, it's ten times more beautiful because you're here beside me. But, when I was fighting with that Saxon I feared that I would never feel this way again. And now that I am alive I don't want to lose it again, I don't ever want to lose _you_again." he turned back to her and Anaria never thought that she had seen his eyes so full of devotion, so full of love. He walked back to her and took her hands in his own, "Every day we were separated, I have loved you more and more, and now that we are together again, my heart is singing, Anaria, like it never has before. It's telling me to give you everything that I can give, especially myself. "

Anaria swallowed hard as everything that Tristran had said to her finally sank in, "Tell me if I have this right, Tristran. You're asking me to marry you aren't you?"

"That's what I was working toward, yes. I just didn't know how to ask you."

"Tristran, you didn't need to be eloquent in this case. Do you think that my answer would be anything less than yes? Yes, I do want to marry you."

She didn't have time to say anything else, because the next instant, Tristran had taken her arm and was kissing her. When he faced her again, his normally stoic mask was gone and he was smiling with such joy, a joy that Anaria had never seen in his eyes before. Holding her close, he said, "Come what may, Anaria, I will live you until my dying day. I promise."

"I believe it." said Anaria, tears of joy running down her face. She laughed as she suddenly thought of something.

"What's so funny?" asked Tristran.

"It just occurred to me that less than month ago we were both so lost, so empty, so alone. And now, we have everything that we could ever want. We have a future, together. The world now seems like such a perfect place and moves with a grace that I never thought it would again. I used to question why I had even been put on this earth if it was only to suffer. Now, my life doesn't seem like such a waste. It all revolves around you. How can that be possible?"

"Only by a miracle." he said, softly, "Only by a miracle."

Within a short span of time, two people had walked the edge between death and life and they had both survived to tell the tale. Now in this night, that place of unknown time called the future, once so dark and barren, was filled with the dazzling light of love and hope.

* * *

Well, hope everyone enjoyed that. As always read and review.

Of course, everyone knows that the song in this chapter is from the King Arthur soundtrack. Also, the song in the previous chapter was "In Dreams" from The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. I also had a little inspiration for Tristran's proposal scene from the song "Come What May" from the movies, Moulin Rouge. If this story were a musical, I think that would be the perfect song for Anaria and Tristran to sing. But, in this context, having them burst into song doesn't really work, so I had sort of had to improvise. Still, I think that I got the general idea across.

Next Chapter: The two peoples of Britain become united at last. And an enemy of the furutre is revealed.


	4. Unity

Hey there, everyone. Here is the next chapter for A Fate Reversed. In this chapter, we witness the wedding of Arthur and Guinevere, and also have a little encounter of en enemy of the future (plus, even more fluff without favorite couple). Enjoy!

Unity:

The first day of spring had dawned bright and clear on the island of Britain. Warm winds from the South drove out the bone-chilling cold that had shrouded the land for nearly three months. New life, which had sleeping beneath the snows of winter, was getting ready to burst forth from the ground and give the entire country a new feeling a rebirth.

Along the shores of the sea, this feeling of rebirth was especially felt. Here, within and around the ruins of a large circle of stones, preparations were underway for something special. Excitement and anticipation for that day's event were running high. Today, a wedding was about to take place, but this was no ordinary wedding. This wedding was a symbol of the rebirth that was sweeping through Britain, a rebirth which would serve to unite all of the people who lived in this land.

However, there was someone who was having a hard tome feeling excited about the occasion. Indeed, what she was feeling could only have been called extreme nervousness.

"Do I look all right?" Guinevere had asked the same question to her cousin at least three times in the past five minutes. It was only one of several indications that Guinevere was nervous about the day's proceedings.

Anaria rolled her eyes as she helped Guinevere with the last minute details of the wedding ceremony. "Guinevere, that's about the hundredth time you've asked me that question since the day started. How many times do I need to tell you that you look beautiful?"

Guinevere sighed and turned away, fidgeting with one of the sleeves on her dress. Despite the fact that Guinevere looked positively stunning, there was no denying that the young bride and future queen of Britain was nervous about upcoming marriage.

Anaria couldn't help but giggle. Guinevere turned to stare at her, "What's so funny?"

"You are. Look at you. The fearless daughter of Merlin, who has taken down enemies that would have killed any lesser person, and you turn out to be jittery for your own wedding. I never thought I would live to see the day where you would be this fidgety over a small matter."

"Anaria, don't go giving advice that you don't follow yourself. You weren't nervous at all at your wedding two months ago. You can hardly know how to cope with this sort of feeling."

Anaria grinned brightly. Any mention of the fact that she was now married to Tristran and her face would inevitable light up with a joy that was almost dazzling. "I guess that I was just lucky." She became serious then, and took Guinevere by the hand and squeezed it in a show of comfort. "But I was nervous, Guinevere. The act of binding yourself to someone, even when it is someone you love, is not something that should be taken lightly. I think that I was only able to hide my fears because the responsibility which I was entering into wasn't half as big as yours. I was only binding myself to one man; in a way, you and Arthur are binding yourselves to an entire country. I know what a big commitment you and Arthur are about to make." She took Guinevere's arms and looked into her eyes, "But, I know that you're both going to be happy together. And, together, you are going to be the best rulers that this country could ever hope to have."

"Do you really think that?" Guinevere had to admit that part of what was bothering her was if she would ever be able to make the queen that everyone expected her to be. She questioned if she would be able to handle the responsibility.

"I wouldn't have told you if I didn't think it was true, Guinevere. You will make a great queen. With Arthur by your side, just think of all the wonderful things you will finally be able to do."

Guinevere smiled, the first genuine smile that she had had that morning in fact. "Well, if you have that much faith in me, I suppose I'll be able to do something right. But, if you start calling me Queen Guinevere or Your Majesty than you won't know what hit you."

"I am fairly warned."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoof beats, and Tristran rode into view. He brought his horse to a stop a few feet from where the two women were standing within the circle of stones that skirted the ocean cliffs, the roar of the waves pounding against the immovable rocks a distant rumble below.

Tristran dismounted from his horse and walked over to where Anaria and Guinevere were standing. The man who had once been Arthur's best scout had certainly changed a lot in just a few short months. He was still the strong, silent man who watched more than spoke, however, there was something in his eyes that had changed; the brooding darkness which had so marked his character was no longer there, or at least not as much. It was as if something that had been locked within him had finally been set free. One needed only to watch the way he was with Anaria to understand what had happened to him. Tristran, after so long, was finally allowing himself to live.

"Guinevere, Anaria," he said, as he came towards them, and it was nobody's imagination that he smiled at Anaria a little longer before he addressed Guinevere once more. "I have just come from Arthur. He's nearly here. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I will ever be." said Guinevere, squaring her shoulders, resolving that she wouldn't let her fears interfere with this day.

"Good. Than I think Anaria and I need to get to our place."

"Of course, Tristran." said Anaria. Giving her cousin one last embrace, she whispered in Guinevere's ear, "You will be fine, Guinevere. I promise you."

As they separated, Guinevere opened her mouth to say something, but Anaria stopped her, "You look beautiful. And that's the last time I'm going to answer that question."

Guinevere smiled, grateful for Anaria's continued indulgence of her pre-wedding jitters. Anaria gave her one lat reassuring nod, and then started to walk away to join Tristran, but than she suddenly stopped, as though she had forgotten to say something, "Oh, Guinevere." Turning back to her, she spoke in the language of the Woads.

Guinevere looked at her, a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth, and she responded in the same language.

Tristran watched this exchange, confused as to what exactly was passing between them. He had no idea what they were saying, but it was obvious that it was causing great hilarity between them. When Anaria turned back and began to walk once more with him, he whispered,

"What was that all about, if I dare ask?"

Anaria smiled, as though she were enjoying some sort of private joke. "I told Guinevere that it was fortunate that this wedding was taking place during the day, or Arthur wouldn't be able to take his hands off of her."

"And how did she respond?"

"Oh, she just told me to be quiet before she cut out my tongue."

Tristran smiled, an occurrence than was no longer so much of a rarity as it once had been. But he had no time to reply, for just than a murmur of excitement swept through the people who were already assembled around the circle of stones, as Arthur, his knights and a large multitude of people appeared on the top of the ridge and began their descent into the valley. The people that had been milling about before were those from the surrounding countryside, many had been there since dawn, preparing for the celebration.

Anaria had thought that it couldn't be possible for anyone to be more nervous than her cousin on this day. However, when she saw how nervous Arthur was, she was inclined to change her opinion. Arthur looked even more on edge than Guinevere, and Anaria suspected that if he had not loved Guinevere as much as he had, than he would have bolted and run. But, as the ceremony began, she began to see that both Guinevere and Arthur were growing more at ease, and by the end the wedding, they were both smiling.

Finally, Merlin held up a cup containing wine to the heavens and blessed it. Then coming down through a line of Woads bearing lighted torches, he presented it to Arthur and Guinevere. Guinevere took it first and drank from it, never taking her eyes off Arthur. She gave the cup to Arthur who also drank from it.

Merlin faced them, beaming a wise, fatherly smile onto each of their faces as he said, "Arthur, Guinevere, our people are one, as you are."

That was what both of them had been waiting for; they stepped toward each other and kissed deeply. Their marriage was sealed, as was the peace that would finally unite Britain.

A great cheer arose from the crowd of onlookers, and the loudest of all was Anaria. Tristran only smiled, and he watched the scene before him, he was reminded of how far each of them had come. Just three months ago, he could never have dreamed of this, the miracle that he would find home and love in so short a time. He had never thought that he would find such deep and fulfilling happiness. He looked at Anaria, the smile glowing upon her face, and her hair flying about her in the spring breeze. His heart swelled nearly to bursting with love. If he never lived anywhere but here and never could find any food except her love, it would be more than enough to keep him alive and well for the rest of his days.

He slipped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. The gesture caused her to stop cheering and turn to look at him. In her eyes, Tristran saw all that he was feeling for her and all that she felt for him. Lightly, he kissed her head and said into the velvet of her hair, "I love you, Anaria."

Anaria smiled as she closed her eyes, relishing his closeness, "I love you, Tristran." It was a small enough gesture of affection so that it went unnoticed by anyone in the applauding crowd, but for the two who shared it, it meant the world.

Arthur and Guinevere stepped up onto the boulder platform which stood in the center of the circle of stones. Merlin raised his hand and called out, "King Arthur!"

"King Arthur!" The crowd responded and everyone kneeled to the new king and queen of Britain, including the knights. Anaria couldn't help but notice that many of them seemed rather awkward about it. After all, though Arthur had been their commander for the past fifteen years, they probably had never expected to bow before him as king. Anaria wondered if they had ever dreamed of doing so. They would not have done such a thing for any other man. The very fact that they were ready to not only call him king, but also stay at Camalann under his command spoke deeply of their loyalty towards him. However, now he would not just commanding a few, he would be commanding a nation. Anaria supposed that the transition might take some getting used to.

However, Anaria also saw that Tristran kneeled without even the slightest hint of awkwardness or stumbling. Indeed, he knelt with the greatest of ease and it seemed in his behavior that he was not bowing to a man, but to his ruler. Anaria would not have been surprised at just how close she was to the truth. Tristran had sworn his sword and his life to Arthur. He had come to consider Arthur as more than just his commander, he was also his ruler. In serving Arthur, Tristran knew that he had at last found his purpose.

Arthur looked out over the people of Britain, and a peace he hadn't known since childhood settled over him, as did a great joy. As he looked at his people, he knew without a doubt that this was where God had meant him to be all along. "Let every man, woman, child bare witness that from this day, all Britons will be united in one common cause." Arthur's voice rang out clear and firm, reaching every ear, no matter how feeble or deaf one might have been.

Guinevere could only smile to express the depths of her love and pride for Arthur. He was standing taller; his eyes were bright with purpose and strength. He looked every inch a king.

Arthur withdrew Excalibur from it's sheathe and held it aloft, and a new round of cheering began, the crowd chanting "Arthur! Arthur!" over and over until the call was a deafening roar which echoed from horizon and horizon.

Arthur and Guinevere turned to the sea, and Arthur signaled to a line of Woads who were holding bows and lighted arrows. Together the knocked the arrows to their bows and let fly. The flames shot up into the late afternoon sky, almost resembling small comets as they blazed a trail across the blue sky. And for a split second, it seemed as though fire and sky became united in a blinding second of beauty. And on earth, the elements which had never before mixed were now joined in body and spirit. It was a unity that was destined to last a lifetime.

* * *

The music and the laughter of merriment were lasting long into the night. Ever since the vows of Arthur and Guinevere had been spoken, thus making them king and queen of Britain, the celebration had not stopped. Indeed, it was rather hard to predict just when the party would stop. But when it was in celebration of so many things (unity, freedom, and peace, just to name a few), it was perhaps not a bad thing to let it go on as long as need be.

However, even the best party is, for some, just still a party. And sometimes there are those who need a little escape from the press of people and the feeling of claustrophobia which inevitably mark such gatherings. Anaria was such a person, and so apparently was Tristran, for he had sneaked out of the festivities sometime before and was now nowhere to be found.

Anaria finally gave up searching for him in the circle of light provided by the bonfire, around which people were dancing, drinking and eating. The knights were included in this number; their former awkwardness had all but evaporated, to be replaced by general good humor and celebration. A few of them were doing a bit too much celebrating, if Anaria was any judge. A few of them were well on their way to becoming stone drunk.

Anaria managed to slip through the background of people and make her way out of the feast. Sure enough, once she was on her own, it was only a matter of minutes to catch sight of the man she loved. He was standing upon the cliffs of the sea, a little distance from the circle of stones that had served as the place for Arthur and Guinevere's marriage. He was staring out at the ever shifting waves and waters, the sea wind blowing his hair away from his face and making him look even more mysterious and attractive to Anaria's eyes.

She stopped a few paces from him and found herself just watching him. Though it had been many months since they had made it back to each other's embrace, yet sometimes she still couldn't believe it. She still sometimes could not believe that she had found all that she ever wanted.

After staring out to the horizon for many minutes, Tristran finally broke whatever connections he had been having with the sky and waves, and turned to her, his mouth twitching into a smile. "I was wondering when you would allow yourself to join me."

"You would not believe how hard it is to get out of such a press of people." said Anaria, coming up to stand by his side. "But you should know by now that no amount of space or people can keep me from you."

"Well, that's comforting to know." There was a hint of laughter in Tristran's voice. "Now that you've said that, are you going to let this little distance between us stop you or are you going to let these arms that have been longing for you all day finally have their wish?"

Anaria laughed and allowed herself to be pulled into the warmth of Tristran's arms. They stood that way for a long time, his arms wrapped around her waits, neither saying anything in the perfect silence. When two hearts beat as one, no words are needed to know what the other is thinking.

Finally, Tristran spoke, "Can you still believe it?"

Anaria smiled and settled deeper into his embrace, "No, it's still hardly even settling in."

"Well, good," said Tristran, "I would hate for you to get bored with me."

Anaria smiled and had Tristran been able to see her face, he would have seen that her eyes had taken on a definite heated look, "After al the nights we've spent together? You expect me to get bored with you so soon? Not at all, Tristran, remember we do have eight years to make for."

Tristran, while he might not have seen her face knew exactly what she was talking about. "Very true. I think that I am a most fortunate man. A night with you is the highest honor any person can hope for."

"And you will be having many more of them, I promise you."

The two laughed softly, and Tristran planted a kiss on the back of her neck. When Anaria felt his lips and breath tickling her skin, she felt herself tingling with excitement. Flirting in such kind with each other had become second nature to them. It was not known by many that Tristran had a sense of humor, but that was only because he chose to reveal it to only a few people. Anaria was one of those people, and the fact that the two of them were able to banter so easily together was a testament to how deeply they were in tune with each other.

Anaria snuggled deeper into Tristran's arms and the two watched the sea weaving its eternal dance. But, her attention was soon drawn from this by the sound of happy laughter and music issuing from the bonfire down below. She turned her head slightly and took in the sight of people dancing and celebrating below them and the more she watched, the more the smile on her face grew.

Tristran began to notice that her attention had shifted. "What is it?"

"Look at them, Tristran," she said, gesturing down to the bonfire, "two peoples, so long enemies, dancing and living together as one. After so much hatred and enmity, this is the greatest reward I could ask for: peace."

Tristran smiled at Anaria's eloquent words. "I couldn't agree more."

"You?" said Anaria, turning to look up at him. "Why would think so?"

"It's difficult to explain, Anaria, but the more I see of this country, the more I see that I missed before. I am seeing beauty where I never did before; this place, so long an enemy to me is becoming more my true home with each passing day."

"Do you know how much it means to hear you say that?" asked, Anaria, "it makes this night twice as beautiful."

Tristran turned her around and stared into her face, "You talk of the sky being beautiful. Your eyes put the brightest star in the heavens to shame."

Anaria smiled at the complement, but she couldn't help but tease him a little. "And since when did you become a poet, sir knight?"

Tristran smiled at her good-natured ribbing. "Don't worry, it won't be every day that I start spouting verses." Gently, he kissed her, the sweetness of the moment heightened by the roar of the sea, and of the twinkling stars above them.

They long stayed together this way, until Anaria said, "We should get back. They'll be wondering where we are."

"Must we?" asked Tristran, "I'm beginning to find that I despise such gatherings."

"You always did as I recall, and don't think that I don't share your distaste, but my cousin is the bride. If I'm not there at least part of the evening, she'll kill me, or at the very least shorten my lifespan by many years."

"Well, in that case, we had better join them, shouldn't we?"

Together, hand in hand, they wandered back to the bonfire. As they neared the sounds of the celebration, they were met by Lancelot, and all it took was a glance to tell that he was stone drunk. True, he could still move upright, but staggering would probably have been a better word for his movement than walking. His voice, too, was slurred, almost beyond recognition.

"Anaria, Tristran, there you are. Arthur just sent me out to find you. I'm glad you cam instead. You spared me a long walk."

"If you had to walk any distance in your present condition, you would have walked straight over the cliffs and not known you were falling into until you hit the water." Tristran observed, wryly, "Of course, that would do you little good since you would be dead the next moment."

Lancelot tried to shoot Tristran a murderous look, but the menacing edge that could have been there was profoundly lessened by his present state of drunkenness.

"Lancelot, just how many drinks have you had tonight?" asked Anaria.

"I don't know, I lost count after the eighth, or was it the ninth?"

Anaria sighed and rolled her eyes up ward. "You're never going to find a woman tonight, Lancelot, not in your condition."

"Ah, you would be surprised, dear lady," slurred Lancelot, "you would be surprised to know just how many women find me attractive when I'm like this."

"Lancelot, in your case, you wouldn't be able to tell a woman from a sack of grain."

Lancelot didn't seem to have any good answer for this, and after trying to hunt for some sort of witty answer to her words, he finally gave up. Completely flustered, he said, "if you and Guinevere are this infuriating with Tristran and Arthur, than neither of them will be able to last a year with you. They might be finding themselves regretting their choice to marry at all. Me, I prefer to be free from such bonds as marriage."

"Oh, so you don't plan to follow in their footsteps?" said Anaria.

"Of course not," said Lancelot, annoyed that she would even think such a thing, "what, you expect me to let go of my freedom, so recently won and bind myself to a woman that I can't escape from?"

Lancelot was drunk, so he was perhaps unaware of all that he was saying. Anaria smiled slyly and said, "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, Lancelot. I'll bet by this time next year, you'll be married, or at least, engaged."

"Anaria, you might have had more than me if you honestly think that."

"We'll see, Lancelot, we'll see." said Anaria. She and Tristran walked past him into the darkness. Lancelot followed, muttering darkly about his confirmed bachelorhood.

Once they were within the circle of light, Anaria was immediately set upon by Guinevere, who had lost all sign of that morning's nervousness. Her face had all the warmth and joy now of a child.

"Anaria, where have you been?"

"I went to look for Tristran." was Anaria's noncommittal reply.

Guinevere shook her head and said in a tone of mock disapproval. "Need I remind you whose wedding this is?"

Anaria grinned and winked at Guinevere, "You may find it strange the times you want to be with your husband. I can't be blamed for following those instincts now, can I?"

Guinevere returned Anaria's grin. "Well, either way, I have been looking all over for you. Arthur and I were wondering if you would sing for us tonight."

"Guinevere, I wasn't planning on singing tonight. I didn't think I would even be called on to do it."

"Well, you're going to have to," said Guinevere, mischievously, "because not only are both your king and your queen asking you, but your cousin is asking it as well, so you're bound not only by duty, but by familial obligation to accept."

"You're abusing you're position, do you know that?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"If you insist upon it, I don't think that I have any choice, but don't expect this to happen very often, or you'll have a rebellion on your hands."

Guinevere and Anaria made their way over to the group of musicians who were playing the festive airs to which everyone was dancing. They whispered something to the lead player and he nodded. The next task was to bring something that resembled silence to the crowd, something that proved to easier said than done, but eventually it was done and Anaria was the center of attention.

The music began, a low and majestic theme. Anaria drew in a breath and began.

**"May it be an evening star  
****Shines down upon you  
****May it be when darkness falls  
****Your heart will be true  
****You walk a lonely road  
****Oh how far you are from home**

**Morne utiliay  
****(Darkness had come)  
****Believe and you will find your way  
****Morne alantia  
****(Darkness ha fallen)  
****A promise lives within you**

**May it be the shadows' call  
****Will fly away  
****May it be you journey on  
****To light the day  
****When night is overcome  
****You may rise to find the sun**

**Morne utiliay  
****(Darkness has come)  
****Believe and you will find your way  
****Morne alantia  
****(Darkness has fallen)  
****A promise lives within you now**

**A promise lives within you now."**

As Anaria's voice faded, applause broke out from the crowd. Anaria bowed, but politely declined an encore. Instead, she insisted that she not be the only one to share in the spotlight and asked if there were any singers in the crowd who would like to perform for the new king and queen; there was no shortage of volunteers. And for the rest of that evening the songs of happiness drifted up to the stars as the people of Britain celebrated peace.

But, there was one person who witnessed this spectacle that did not feel any happiness or joy. No, it was with anger, hatred and contempt that this unseen spectator watched what was unfolding down below her.

High on a hill, the dark silhouette of a horseman against the black night watched and planned

They were behaving like a pack of undisciplined animals and ignorant savages. Dancing and singing around that fire, celebrating as if the had actually accomplished something. That was a laugh, they may have won a victory but they had accomplished nothing, nothing that would last very long at any rate.

She curled her lip in disgust as her steel grey eyes caught sight of Arthur. That sneaking, conniving dog who had stolen her rightful place. She was the one to who the people should be bowing and calling high queen. Instead, she was replaced with a mixed-blood, illegitimate cur and a mewling, weak woman. Neither Guinevere nor Arthur understood what true power meant. Their rule was based on the foolish belief that all men and women were equal. Hah! What a silly notion. They should have known that there were certain standings in the world. Some were born to follow, some born to lead, and others were born too lowly to be counted. These were the standings that had been set in place since the beginning of time and if they were ignored, chaos would follow. And, chaos, as Arthur and Guinevere would find out, was all that would come for them in their rule.

She trembled with rage as she watched this false king whisper something in his queen's ear and they both laughed. She hated Arthur. Though she had never met the man personally, she hated what he had come from. His father had stolen her mother away from her and had made her life little less than miserable. He was responsible for all the trouble in her life, and since his father wasn't alive for her revenge, she would have to settle for him. She would not be at peace until all the people of his bloodline were eradicated from the face of the earth.

In fact, she almost wanted to go down there right now and kill him and his queen, regardless of the consequences. But, no, that would be a fool's errand and if there was one thing she was not, she was most certainly not a fool. She was patient. It was clear that both Arthur and Guinevere loved each other very much, which would be all the better for her plans. Everything was nearly in place, with the eyes and ears she would have in the very midst of Arthur's closest allies, she was sure that the right opportunity would present itself. She would wait and watch from the shadow, patiently waiting for the right time.

Oh yes, she was patient. It was one of the few virtues she had, and it is one of the few that can serve well both the motives of dark and light.

Her eyes scanned the festivities going on below her and finally settled on Arthur. Her voice, cold and harsh, split the warm, spring air like a knife, "We'll just see how long your pathetic little kingdom will last, Arthur Castus. Before this year ends, I will be in the position of ruler and both you and your queen will be begging for mercy before me. This I vow.

With one last sneer at the crowd of merry makers below her, she turned her horse and galloped off to the south. No one saw this troubling apparition, for there was too much joy at the present to think of the future. There were no thoughts in anyone's mind that the future would hold something dark and evil that would almost destroy what Arthur and all those who followed him had worked so hard to create.

But, for the present, the people of Britain celebrated long into the night. They were together as one people, united, at peace, and at long last, free.

* * *

Left you hanging there, didn't I? I am really evil, I know, and even more so because that last part was just foreshadowing, and so it it will be a little while before we find out just who this person was. But I can promise you that she is very important to the action of the story. I don't want to give away too much, but here is a little hint: in the legends, Arthur's half-sister is one of his most deadly enemies. What is that sister had an historical counterpart? Chew on that for awhile, and see if your right.

I also don't own the song "May it be." But, then, that might have been obvious.

Anyway, read and review, as always.

Next chapter: Arthur and Guinevere begin the difficult task of consolidating their role. And in the process, it will give Anaria the chance to face the pain of her past, and put it to rest, forever.


	5. Echoes of the Past

Hey there, everyone. Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I have been very busy and I am having a little trouble with writers block (creativity can be a pain sometimes). But, hopefully this chapter will make up for that. Enjoy!

(AN in case anyone may have forgotten, the _italics_ that start this chapter are another interlude from the storyteller).

Echoes of the Past:  
_Spring, it has been said, is a time for new birth and renewal. In Britain, the coming of spring heralded new growth out with new growth in the plains and forests across the land. And the growth of nature was mirrored by the people who lived here, who were feeling a new zest for life coursing through their veins. The people felt that there was something new in the air, as if something amazing and legendary had occurred over the winter, and they were right. _

_As days melted away with the snows of winter, the story of how a man named Arthur Castus had defeated an entire Saxon army with only one-third of their number. It had been such a devastating victory that the Saxons had retreated back to their far northern shores and hadn't stirred for the rest of the season. And, there they would stay for the rest of Arthur's rule. _

_And as the Romans had withdrawn, leaving Britain susceptible to attacks and caving in on itself, the report began circulating that the same Arthur and a Woad princess named Guinevere had stepped into the gap to lead the country. This was more enough cause for great rejoicing in one quarter. Arthur's reputation as a brilliant Roman tactical leader and also, a truly honorable and merciful man made many Britons more than willing to follow him as their leader. Moreover, as many had lived their whole lives under the Romans' crumbling system of laws, they were happy to see a true ruler come to rule the land._

_At fortress town of Camalann, where the epic battle between Saxon and Briton had been fought and won and where Arthur had decided to his headquarters would be, the task of building a new kingdom began. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance and all who were involved felt that they were a part of something great and that would be remembered throughout the ages. _

_None felt more so than Arthur's knights. Arthur had given the chance to go home, but, they had all decided to stay, for now, at least. Perhaps some of them would return to the land called Sarmatia one day, but for now, they all knew that the place where they were needed most and where they could make the most difference was in Britain. _

_And for Tristran and Anaria, what can be said of them that would do full justice to their happiness? They were in a state of bliss that neither had thought they would ever experience. Granted, they did argue sometimes, but the life they lived together was full of deep peace and joy beyond all expression. But, something was verging on the horizon, something that would test them both, but Anaria especially._

_And so, let your minds think that since the marriage ceremony between Arthur and Guinevere by the sea, that a month and a half has passed in time and in place, imagine yourself to be in the Fortress Hall of Camalann. Here it will be that the next part of this story will begin. _

For over fifteen years, Arthur had led his Sarmation knights from the Fortress Hall of Camalann. Over those years, the emotions and feelings that had been felt in this chamber had been as varying and different as the men that had sat around the table itself. There had been tension and excitement felt at the prospect of an upcoming mission. Sorrow had hung like a dark cloud at the loss of a comrade. But, no matter what was being felt, there was always an underlying feeling of comradeire and connectedness that could nothing could break. Not even the great number of empty seats, the number of which grew with each passing year. However, in these passing months, the room didn't seem to be as empty. It was beginning to be filled with a different kind of atmosphere, one of dreams and hopes for a better kind of future. Its' mission had changed in an important way: Arthur not only commanded his knights from this chamber, he ruled over an entire nation.

"I believe that now that the winter is over, we need to concentrate on pulling Britain together." he was saying one day in the early days of spring to the assembled group. "I particularly want to focus on the issue of the Roman governors in the outlying provinces. I still have not received word from some of then about the change in power."

"Considering the answers we have been getting, you should consider that a blessing." Commented Bors.

Everyone knew what that comment was supposed to mean. Many of the Roman lords who lived in Britain had been less than thrilled by the idea of a man like Arthur ruling over them. For one thing, their idea of purity and propriety was insulted by his Roman-British blood. But, more than that, Arthur threatened their power and their wealth. Arthur had made very specific laws that he would not be afraid to enforce, should the need ever arise. The Romans would no longer be able to rely on slaves or serfs to make their fortune. If any people did work on the land of a lord, than they had to be given a fair share of whatever they grew, as well as suitable housing and clothing.

Arthur was no fool. He promised that the Romans would be able to keep what power if they followed him. It was left to the Roman lords to decide whether they would go or stay. Some of the lords might have considered rebelling. But any such thoughts lasted only a very short time. With so many willing to fight for Arthur should the call to arms go out (including those who technically supposed to fight for the lords), the idea was simply not practical. Some of them had simply decided to stay in Britain, because there was nothing for them in Rome. The majority had slipped away quietly, not wanting to stay in a place where they couldn't easily continue their luxurious lifestyles.

"By now, as I am certain you know, we have heard from all the provinces that were under Roman rule. Most of the officials have made their choice by now whether to go or stay. There are some however, that I have not heard from. I would like to address this issue before it goes any further. I don't want this to grow into a situation that is beyond control. There is one in particular that I feel needs to addressed. Lancelot, I would like you to go and see why they have been silent for so long."

"Where is the province, Arthur?" asked Lancelot.

"It's deep in the south, along the coast."

Anaria had been listening attentively to the meeting up till this point, but when these words left Arthur's mouth, it was almost as if she had fallen asleep and was hearing the rest of what was said in a dream. For she was beginning to remember a time, many years before, when she had not known her true heritage, when she had been raised as the daughter of a Roman lord in Britain. She saw herself as a small child, running along the shores of the sea, she was remembering singing for her adopted father, there were many things that were good, but there were darker memories that overshadowed the feelings of happiness. These memories did not manifest themselves in definite memories, so much as sharp images, faces and emotions that had caused her immense pain in her life.

The voices of Arthur and Lancelot as they discussed this province moved in and out of these memories, as mere background noise to the memories.

"Do you think they are looking to cause trouble?"

"I don't think they looking for it directly. However, I feel that it would be better to take care of this now before it becomes too much a problem in the future. I have attempted to send emissaries two times before, but they have both failed to return. That in and of itself worries me; I find it hard to believe that two messengers could so conveniently fail to return."

"Do you know anything about the province?"

"What I have heard is scant and based on rumors. I don't know how true they are, but I don't like what I have been hearing. There have been reports that the man who is governing the province is corrupt, possibly even a usurper. He is said to be a man who knows no mercy, torturing anyone who tries to oppose him."

"If that is very true, then I don't think it's to hard to believe that he wouldn't like hearing that Britain has a new king that fights for the oppressed." Commented Lancelot rather wryly.

"Exactly, which is why I want this looked into as soon as possible."

"Do you have any idea what his name is?"

"The reports have said Andred."

Andred. The very name turned aria's very blood to ice. Andred, the man that she had thought was the only one of her father's ministers that she could trust. Andred, the man who had betrayed her, the man who had nearly destroyed her dreams.

Tristran had been listening to all of this in silence. At the mention of Andred's name, he cut his eyes towards Anaria, trying to determine what she was thinking. He saw that her eyes were distant and far away and that he mind was no longer in the proceedings. It was far in the past. He knew what was causing her to become so pensive. The discussion which was currently passing between Arthur and Lancelot was more painful to her than it would be to anyone else at the moment. It worried him, and it worried him more just what this information would cause her to do.

The rest of the meeting passed in a fog for Anaria. She did not hear anything clear, except that Lancelot would be leaving for the south in three days time. And that was when her mind was made up.

The meeting came to an end and the group began to leave the Fortress Hall. Tristran got up to follow them, but he noticed almost immediately that Anaria wasn't following. Her eyes held a far away look in them, as if she were struggling with herself to make some sort of difficult decision. "Anaria, what is it?"

"Nothing. You go on, Tristran; I need to speak with Arthur."

She scrupulously avoided eye contact with Tristran, uncomfortable in knowing that what she was about to do would have to be done without him knowing about it. She wasn't sure how he would react. Tristran, though, already suspected what she was planning. He didn't try to stop her or argue with her about to logic of it, he simply nodded and left the room, knowing that neither the time nor the place was right for such a conference.

Once, Tristran had left, Anaria got up and went over to Arthur who was still in the room, "Arthur, may I speak with you?"

"Of course, Anaria. What is it?"

Anaria looked down for a moment, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do, but which would be by no means pleasant. "I would like to go with Lancelot."

Arthur looked at her, slightly confused, "Why?"

"It's where I was raised. I know the country, the people. I'll be able to help."

Arthur sensed that there was more reason to Anaria's request than a simple desire to be helpful. Since hearing the story of what she and Tristran had suffered when they had first fallen in love, he suspected that the personal reasons for wanting to go back were very much a part of it. But, he shouldn't pry, that would have to be left for Tristran and Anaria to work out.

"If you feel that you could be helpful, Anaria, than I am sure that your presence would be greatly appreciated."

"Thank you, Arthur." said Anaria. Her relief that he hadn't tried to go deeper into her reasons was all too obvious. "You can't know how much I appreciate this. Thank you for letting me go."

"Of course, Anaria." She started to leave, thinking that the conversation was over, but Arthur called her back, "Anaria, before you leave, I would like to ask you something?"

"What would that be?"

"I was wondering if there were any Woads who you thought would be able to fill a place on the council."

That struck Anaria as a rather odd request. "May I ask just why you would want to know that?"

"It is my goal to unite this island as it never has been before," said Arthur, "even more than it was under the Romans. I am attempting to let the people of Britain know that a new era has dawned, where everyone, Woad or otherwise has a say. I want them to know that I don't intend to play favorites. I think that the best place to start that is by asking different groups to send someone to sit at this table, as a representative, I suppose you would call it, to voice the separate needs of the people who they represent."

"Arthur, need I remind you already have two Woads sitting at your table."

"That's true. But, if you will forgive me saying so, Anaria, they both are married to two men who already sit here, and have for the past fifteen years. I am afraid that some Woads in Britain would be convinced that their full needs are being met. It's best if I have at least Woad sitting in this table that could not be accused of being influenced by another member."

"I see. Well, when you put it like that, it does make sense." She took a moment to consider. "It is rather hard to choose, there are so many. But, the most likely person that I know of would be a man called Rudyard. He is a good fighter, brave and loyal. He has never disappointed before."

Arthur's face became thoughtful, "Interesting. When I asked Guinevere what she thought, she suggested him too. She said that she didn't know of a man more fit to what I am looking for. I also think that I remember him from the battle of Badon Hill. He made a brave stand, I believe."

"You will never find a braver man, nor one so unfailingly loyal to the cause. He is young and headstrong, but I believe that those qualities will be of great use in a group such as this. If you were to choose him, I know that he would be honored."

Arthur nodded, "I will certainly keep him in mind. I'll need to run this by the rest of the knights but that can wait for when you return from your mission. In the meantime, I'll send a message to Merlin, so that he can send Rudyard. I would like to meet him myself before I make any final assessment. Thank you for you advice, Anaria. You can go now."

Anaria inclined her head respectfully and left the room. She gave the choice of Rudyard no more than a passing thought. She had not seen him since her wedding, when they had parted with such angry words. She knew very well that he had felt betrayed when he had seen her with Tristran. She hoped that this move would serve to start mending the ties between them.

Besides, she had slightly bigger things to consider at this point in time. Namely, how she was going to break this to Tristran in such a way that he would actually let her go. She knew that there was every chance that he would not permit it. Perhaps it was just a fool's mission; maybe she was mad for even considering the idea. And yet, for some strange, unfathomable reason, the moment that Arthur had spoken of her old home, she just felt that it was something she had to do. She didn't know why, exactly, but she knew that she had to go back, and nothing would keep her from doing so.

* * *

That night, Anaria and Tristran's rooms were strangely silent, even more so than normal. It wasn't often that either Anaria or Tristran talked late into the night, but tonight even Tristran couldn't deny the fact that Anaria was more quiet than normal. Even as he came into the room, she didn't even seem to notice him. She was sitting on their bed, seemingly absorbed in cataloguing the infirmary stocks which she had made her goal to get back to peak efficiency. After what had happened at Badon Hill, she was sure that more lives could have been saved if the infirmary had been what it once was. However, he could clearly see that Anaria's mind was not on the work. Her mind seemed to be a hundred miles away in a different time and place. Tristran knew where she was, and he was determined to get her out of that place, for if she stayed there too long, he didn't even want to think how it would affect her.

"Anaria." he said softly, as he went over to her.

He received no reply, "Anaria!" he said, louder this time.

Anaria jumped and turned to meet his eyes and quickly looked away again, lest he divine what was she had been thinking about, suspecting that he already did. "What?"

"Nothing. You just seem to be distracted this evening, more than usual. Is there anything you need to talk about?"

"No, no, Tristran. I'm fine, really I am."

Tristran sighed and moved to her side, "When are you going to learn to be honest with yourself during times like this? When are you going to understand that you have nothing to hide from me?" He got no answer, but the silence was answer enough. "Very well, since you won't tell me yourself, I shall simply have to guess. You are thinking of the past, aren't you, Anaria? And of the request that you made to Arthur. You're thinking of what it will be like to see it once more."

Anaria's eyes came up and they were honestly surprised, "How could you…"

"Anaria, after I looked at your face during that meeting, I knew that it would affect you one of two ways, you would either try to stay as far away from it as you could, or you would want to face it directly. When you stayed behind to talk to Arthur, I knew which choice you have made."

Anaria couldn't lie to Tristran. When he was so exact, she sometimes wondered if he really could read her mind. "Yes, that's what's bothering me."

"Anaria, I'll be honest with you. I have to question the wisdom of this move you're taking. You know what will happen if either of us are discovered?"

"Those worries are behind us. Things will be different this time; the status quo has changed. "

"How can you be sure? And why do you even want to go back? You said yourself many times, it was never your true home."

"I don't know why I want to go back, Tristran. Perhaps a part of me wants to see what has happened to them all, maybe a part of me wants to show them all how I turned out, especially my father."

"Anaria, you don't need his approval or anyone else to make yourself whole. We have each other now, a whole life ahead of us that we never before dreamed possible. Isn't that enough for you?"

"Yes, no. I don't know. I'm not certain of anything right now. I wouldn't have considered it if Arthur had not spoken of it. But, the only thing that I know now is that I have to do this." She took Tristran by the shoulders and said, pleadingly. "Trust me, Tristran. If you truly love me, you will not ask me. I don't know why, but I know that I have to go back one last time."

Tristran looked away, exasperated. "Tristran, please try to understand me. Now that I have this opportunity, I can't let it slip away. I just know that if I don't face my past once and for all, that part of me will never be free. I have to go, Tristran. This has to be done."

Tristran was silent for a few minutes as he digested what Anaria had said. Finally, he sighed and said as he turned around to face her. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

Anaria felt herself smiling, "You know me well enough to know the answer to that question."

He nodded, "Well, if you feel this with your heart, than I will support you."

"Thank you, Tristran." said Anaria, gratefully hugging him, "This would have been more difficult if you hadn't agreed to it."

Tristran returned the hug, but he said, "But, if you're going to do this, than I can't let you do it alone. If you're going Anaria, than so am I."

Anaria disentangled herself from his embrace to look into his eyes, "No, no. Tristran."

"I can't let you face this alone, Anaria. You're my wife. It's my duty to protect you. Besides, part of my past is there as well. It's something that we need to face together."

Anaria couldn't argue with him. He was right and she knew that she would need all the support that she could in the coming days, whatever they might bring. But, than again, there was something else that made her just as worried. Tristran's destructive temper, which would most likely go off at the slightest provocation if someone meant to hurt her.

Tristran, as if sensing her fear, turned her head so that they were looking into each other's eyes, "I'll control my temper, I promise."

"Why does that not reassure me?"

"Don't you trust me?" Asked Tristran, huskily, as he moved closer to her on the bed, snaking one arm around her waist and bending down over her.

Anaria smirked as she looked up at him. "Not for a second."

Tristran laughed, stroking her hair. "Smart choice. It wouldn't be a promise I could keep, if anyone were to endanger you I have not married you to lose you so soon."

Anaria grinned as Tristran began kissing her softly on the neck. "If I was in danger, I doubt that there was anything that could stop you from saving me."

"Than it is settled, I am coming with you." He murmured, as he pushed her back even further on the bed. "Now, if we could maybe turn our conversation to more pleasant topics."

"Did you have any ideas?"

Tristran only smiled in reply and brought his mouth back down to hers. He would spend the rest of the night showing her just what he constituted as pleasant topics.

* * *

Read and review as always. Hopefully, there won't be as long of a delay in the next chapter.

Next chapter: Anaria returns to her old home. She expected to find things changed, but not even she could have been prepare for what she will find, nor just how heartbroken it will leave her.


	6. The Rerturn

Okay, yes, here it is, the brand new chapter of A Fate Reversed. A million apologies for it being so late. But I have been really busy the past few weeks. Finals are always the hardest. But, this chapter is nice and long and we get some nice background on Anaria. Plus, we also see some new OC's. This is really the first chapter that is out of cannon, in that there will be characters that are not in the original movie. This si sort of practice for later in the story, when even more of them will show up, so let me know what you think.

Now, without further ado, please enjoy. (Oh, and I apologize for the chapter title. I couldn't think up a clever few words that would encapsulate the entire chapter. I hate it when that happens).

The Return:

Three days later, the group which was to make the journey south set off from Camalann. Lancelot, Anaria, and Tristran, along with a dozen of the newly formed Wall Guard compromised the group. The Wall Guard had been the brain-child of Ganis, the knights' former squire, and Jols, a former serf. Both of them had fought together in the great battle of Badon Hill, and the two had become fast friends. They had come to the conclusion that Camalann and the surrounding towns along The Wall would need some form of protection that had before been supplied by the Roman Military. Now, since the Romans had left, some alternate form of defense would be needed. Arthur had given them permission to begin training. So far, the results had proven promising. Some of the recruits were actually proving to be better than the Romans had ever been.

They all were aware of the fact that they were riding into a potentially dangerous situation but, none could have felt things as deeply as Anaria. As they traveled, and as they came ever closer to the southern coasts, she found herself unable to keep the questions and the memories from assaulting her. Who would she find still alive when she got there? It was true that if Andred had really taken over, there was a good chance that everyone she cared about was dead. However, she couldn't keep herself from thinking (or hoping) that some remnants of her past, the happy memories that were all too few and far between in her life. Would her father still be alive? Would her brother, Jerome, who she last remembered as being a young boy? Would he have followed through with so early promise? She had no satisfactory answer to these questions. She hadn't even thought about what she was going to do when she got there. Her current plan was just to wait and see what happened. Not the best plan by any means, but the only one that she could come up with.

They traveled for four days. On the fourth night, as thy lay camped under the stars, in the silence of the night, she heard the roar of the sea in her ears as she lay awake. It was a sign that they were close; she could not turn back now. And the next day, the memories started to come back to her even stronger.

They followed a winding road through grassy fields. She recognized it from her childhood. She had raced over these fields on her horse when she had been only ten years old, already at that young age a very accomplished rider.

And, when the road through the fields began to turn slowly to the scrub and sloping valleys of the seashore, it brought to mind even more memories. Those who had never seen the sight of the endless blue waves could hardly fathom the scope of what they were seeing. Anaria, however, could only see the child running in and out of the waves, and the man and the woman that she had called her parents who were following at a distance, fondness for the girl they had adopted showing on their faces. They had both loved her, if she wasn't of their flesh and blood. Even after her brother had been born, she had always felt that she had retained some place in their affection. And in truth, she had always considered them her parents, since she had never had any others that she could remember.

The road soon left the shoreline and began to wind to the south and west, leaving the vagrant fields behind and entering thick woodlands. It was here that Anaria felt herself beginning to tremble and she gripped the reins in even tighter. Every tree, every bend in the road seemed to become more and more familiar to her. The memories were growing stronger now, memories that she wouldn't have been able to put into words even if she had wanted to try. And the further they went, the more distracting those memories were becoming.

It was something of a relief when Lancelot brought his horse around to ride beside her. He could only guess what she must be going through. He was aware of only a part of what had transpired here nearly nine years ago between them. He had witnessed enough to know that it would have killed any other person. "How are you?" he asked, and Anaria only gave him a look. "Right, stupid question."

Anaria actually managed a small smile. She knew that his attention was kindly meant. "To be quite honest, I don't know what I'm feeling. There are so many memories here already and we are not even at the fortress yet. This whole countryside feels so foreign to me, like I lived her in a dream, a dream too long ago to remember clearly. And yet, in that same respect, it is familiar because I know I have been here before." She looked at him and laughed a little. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"To some it might. It does to me. I'm sure, that if I was ever to return to Sarmatia, I would feel the same way that you are now." The two were silent for a few minutes, then Lancelot spoke once more. "Anaria, I know that it will be difficult for you to answer, but I must ask the question. If Andred is still in charge here, what can we expect?"

Anaria was silent for a moment, before she answered, "We cannot expect a warm welcome. Andred is not the kind who will take kindly to the news we bring. He prefers control. He was always doing his best to manipulate my father for his own ends. He is crafty and cruel, yet, charming, oh so charming. He could render a snake harmless."

"You seem to speak from experience."

"I do, because he also deceived me. I thought that he alone of all my fathers' followers I could trust. He was my friend nearly my whole life. Of course, I use the term very sparingly now. He was only ever looking for a way to bring me to humiliation and ruin. He had never liked the fact that my father adopted me when I was baby. Andred felt that my father should have been left in the village along with the rest of my kin's corpses."

Lancelot turned to look at her inquiringly. "This was a part of her story he had never heard before. "What are you talking about?"

"My father didn't just find me in the abandoned ruins of a Woad village, Lancelot. He was the one responsible for its destruction." When Lancelot continued to stare at her in confusion, she explained further. "I heard the story from my father's captain at the time. My father received orders from Rome to kill all the Woads in his province. The Roman authority was trying to drive them back over Hadrian's Wall. My father had no choice but to agree, though I know that his conscious never gave him peace about the slaughter he was in charge of. He never made peace with the innocent blood that was on his hands. I was the lone survivor of the last village that he destroyed. He took me because he felt I was the only thing that could make any good come out of his actions."

Lancelot was appalled by what he was hearing. "How can you speak so calmly about a man who murdered your family?"

"Because I have forgiven him, Lancelot. You do not understand. My father was a good man, he knew how to be a commander on the battlefield, but Rome should never have tried to make a Governor out of him. He couldn't see through the guises of men. He knew only the plain honest speech of his fellow soldiers, for in that situation, things must be plain if men are to survive. In politics, it is completely different. It is another language entirely. It is one where honey-smooth words and polite phrases mask true intent. My father could not discern between truth and deception among his courtiers. That was his weakness; he listened to the wrong people." She looked back at Lancelot. "He had many failings, Lancelot, but he was a good man. And he was kind to me; he loved me like his own. Please, do not speak of him with disrespect, though I cannot ask you to understand."

Anaria rarely made such personal entreaties, and when she did, it was always with the purest of intentions. Lancelot could tell that she believed every word she had spoken. He was still not sure how she could be so forgiving, but he would honor her wishes. He conceded the point with a nod. "Than we will say no more on the subject."

Anaria smiled her thanks, before sobering. "Besides, my father is not the one to worry about, it is Andred. He is one of the most dangerous threat."

"I said before that you seemed to have had experience with him. What exactly happened?"

Anaria seemed averse to answering the question, but she knew that Lancelot would need to know what to expect. "Eight years ago, before I realized what he was, I asked for his advice about Tristran."

Lancelot was shocked when he heard this. "You told him about Tristran?"

"No, not even I thought that I could trust him with the whole secret. I merely said I was in love with someone that my father would not approve of. I thought that I could trust him. I was wrong. It was just the information he had been waiting for to ruin me. That night, when he found Tristran and I together, was no simply an accident. He expected to find me with another man; the fact that it was one of the Sarmation knights was an unexpected bonus. He almost killed us both." She looked at Lancelot. "Not even Tristran knew about this until a few months ago. I could only bring myself to admit it to him when he asked me to marry him. He was very forgiving. But can you see how dangerous he is? Time, I am sure has only made him worse. I can promise you that he will not take kindly to the news that we bring. We must watch ourselves. If we are not careful, more than a few of us will end up with a knife in his back."

"Is that so?" said Lancelot, "Well, we shall simply have to make him see reason, lest any harm should come to him. Thank you, Anaria. I know how difficult this is for you. But I am grateful that you came. It's an advantage to know what we will be expecting."

Anaria smiled at Lancelot. After Guinevere, he was probably her closest friend. She knew that if she could confide and trust in anyone, it was Lancelot. "You're welcome, Lancelot. And thank you for being willing to listen."

At that moment, the faint sound of approaching hoof beats could be heard through the forest. Lancelot held up a hand and the party came to a halt. A few seconds later, a group of horsemen appeared around the bend. They promptly surrounded Lancelot, Anaria, and the rest. They wore the uniforms of Roman soldiers. However, they were clearly reluctant to attack.

A few members of the Wall Guard, young and relatively inexperienced in such matters reached for their swords, but Lancelot stopped them, "Don't draw your weapons. We are not here to fight with these people." He turned to the horsemen that were surrounding them, "Which one of you is the leader?"

One of the horsemen, wearing the uniform of a Roman Captain, came forward to face Lancelot. He was not a typical Roman captain; one could see that almost at once. His face bore a quiet nobility and intelligence that was, for the most part, absent from many other men who had achieved his rank. He actually resembled more one of the knights; he did fight for any kind of pleasure but because he felt that it was his duty to protect the innocent. Nor did it seem as though he would take any pleasure in senseless cruelty that so many Roman soldiers, no matter what their rank seemed to delight in. He was one who commanded true respect, one that Lancelot would be able to speak with as an equal.

"If you wanted to speak to the leader, than you will speak to me? I am the one who leads these men."

Lancelot nodded, "I see. May I ask if this is the usual way that you treat visitors to this province?"

"Believe me, sir, I mean no disrespect, and I intend no harm to you or your followers. However, it is my duty to protect this province. Things have not been going smoothly in these parts recently. You must understand, as I am sure you do, that there are times when everyone is suspect to scrutiny."

Lancelot looked at the man and said, pointedly, though respectfully. "Yes, I con understand that. However, you don't need to have any fear of our intentions. We are only here to carry out some business that is essential to the future of this province. We have been sent personally by the new king of this island."

At the sound of these words, a change seemed to come across the captain's face. He seemed surprised at first, and he looked closely at Lancelot, as if trying to gauge whether or not Lancelot was lying. Finally, however, a relieved smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. "King? You have come from Arthur Castus?"

Lancelot nodded. "We have."

"Well, that changes everything. If that be the case, you are most welcome."

Lancelot looked at him in slight confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"We have been hoping for a messenger to come from Arthur Castus for at least two weeks. We had hoped that the last word had not been spoken. You have no idea how welcome this news will be to our overlord."

"Your overlord? You mean to tell me that your Governor had been watching for us?"

"And hoping. Ever since the last messengers, he wanted to have a chance to explain what happened personally."

"What happened to these messengers? We heard nothing from them after they were sent out."

The Captain's face faltered and he said, quietly. "I am sorry. Those messengers were both killed when they delivered the news of Arthur's kingship."

A dark look came into Lancelot's eyes and for a moment, he looked prepared to renege his former promise of good will. However, the Captain was quick to add. "But I promise you, that the man I now serve was in no way responsible for what happened. In fact, he did everything in his power to prevent it."

"Really?" said Lancelot, who looked as though he wanted to believe the Captain's words, but was not entirely convinced.

The Captain opened his mouth to respond, but than shook his head and said, "This is not my story to tell. Please, though, come with us and my master will more than gladly tell you what has transpired."

"And who is your master?"

"A man named Jerome."

Anaria, who had been listening to this whole exchange keenly, let out a small, almost inaudible gasp. Jerome. Her brother, Jerome was now the Governor, not Andred. The news sent a shock throughout her entire body. She felt shocked, confused, overjoyed. Her brother was alive, but what Andred? Where was he? Were the rumors of his sovereignty merely that, rumors?

As the party once more began to move forward, under the escort of the Roman soldiers, Anaria managed to say under her breath to Lancelot, "I recognize their captain."

"Who is he?"

"I believe that his name is Felix. His father was the commander of the legion stationed at the castle."

"Then it seems like his son has inherited that command. He seems different from other Roman captains."

"Yes, so was his father. He had the rare quality of humanity, which so many Romans have trained out of them by the time they get to that rank. He was honorable and capable in his command. He trained his son, well. I can see those same qualities in him."

"Do you have any idea what he meant by his last words, about someone named Jerome governing this region? Is that name at all familiar to you?"

Anaria was silent for a moment before she finally said, "My brother."

Lancelot looked at her in slight shock. "You have a brother?"

"Yes. And if what Felix said is true, than we may not be in as much danger as we thought we were."

Nothing more was said for the rest of the journey through the forest. The soldiers were not all that interested in talking, which mirrored what those in the party were feeling towards them. Anaria could only grip the reins tighter, and know that one or way another; soon it would all come out.

The sun was beginning it's descent to the western horizon when they broke the cover of the trees. However, since it was mid-spring, it would be many hours yet before darkness fell. In the late afternoon sunlight, Anaria looked down into the valley and drew in her breath. There, not more half-a-mile from the border of the trees, she saw the place where she had grown up.

It seemed as though time had stood still in the valley for the past eight years. Save for the addition of a few buildings to the village everywhere was almost exactly the same. And for some reason, that struck Anaria. She had not been expecting to still feel a kinship with this place. She had spent a carefree, happy childhood here before the darkness of the past eight years had shrouded her life. It was only over the past few months that the sun had shone on her once more. Now, as she looked down on the place where she had grown up, she recognized that same feeling: her home was recovering from old wounds.

They descended into the valley, coming into the village. It was quietly abuzz with the activity of the day's end. Men were putting away their wears from the market, speaking in low tones about a deal they had brokered earlier in the day, or of trouble that they were having with the wife at home. Women were coming up from the stream with their washing, laughing and chatting. Children were running and playing in the streets, their laughter causing Anaria to feel a pang in her heart. She had once been like that. She only hoped that their entrance into maturity did not mirror her own.

As the cavalcade passed, conversation slowed and between some parties, stopped altogether, and eyes turned to watch the strangers who were being escorted by Felix's men. Those glances were by turns suspicious, curious, sympathetic. They had obviously seen something like this before. The last two messengers to appear had chosen to visit the region at the wrong time. They had never come out of the manor gates.

Felix led them through the gates and into the courtyard. Anaria couldn't help but cast a quick glance around her at the surroundings. They seemed so familiar, and yet, were completely alien. She could very well remember the sounds of the smiths' hammers ringing on anvils, the bawdy singing of the Roman soldiers, mingling with the snorting, baying and barking of the horses and dogs which always seemed to be found in the courtyard. Now, the sounds were absent, for it was coming on night. And yet, the echoes of those sounds and sights she could still hear faintly across the vast expanse of time.

Felix approached them and said, "I must respectfully ask that your followers remain here. Only the leaders may enter."

Lancelot seemed to consider this request in a rather bored manner, as though he considered himself in charge of the situation and not the other way around. "Very well, we are your guests. You have the right to make that request. But, I expect them to be well-treated. If any of them are missing when I return, I will hold you responsible. I would not want to be in your place if that were to happen. Do you understand?"

Felix recognized that Lancelot was not one to administer idle threats. "That is fair enough. Considering the circumstances, I can hardly blame you. But I give you my word that they will be well-treated."

Lancelot turned to the men. "Remain here. Don't provoke anyone or cause trouble. You will be receiving further orders soon." He turned to Anaria and Tristran. "Anaria, Tristran, come with me."

Felix saw and Anaria, as if for the first time noticing that there was a woman in the party. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Does Arthur Castus normally send a woman along with the men?" There wasn't any hint of disbelief or contempt in his voice, merely surprise.

"Anaria is out equal." Said Lancelot, his voice firm, "She is to be treated with respect as anyone else. I expect you to pass that along."

"Believe me, sir. I do not think that anyone will even dream of doing that." He looked at Anaria respectfully. "She looks as though she can take care of herself."

With that, he turned and left the courtyard, the three of them following closely. As she walked the halls of her childhood, Anaria once more felt the sweet sickness of remembrance steal over her. Tristran could see how much this was affecting her, and he reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, the knowledge that Tristran was with her caused Anaria to father strength. She squared her shoulders and stood straighter. Whatever was coming, she was going to face it.

They came to the large, double oak doors of the Great Hall. Felix, without pausing, pushed them open and the four stepped into the hall behind him. Anaria, who remembered this hall so much better than any of them, found herself looking around the room, trying to see if she could find anything familiar about it.

There were several men in the hall, conferring in low voices. Some of them appeared to be in their middle ages, but a good majority of them were younger. And all action seemed to center around the one man who looked as if he had an instinctively, charismatic air about him. Respect and deference were paid to him, even if it was not overt. It was clear that he was the undisputed leader of this province.

Anaria found her eyes drawn to him for some reason. She looked hard at him and suddenly she gasped. That man, she knew him. It was true, her brother, Jerome, had become the leader of the province.

Jerome was a young man of about 18 years of age. Physically, he did not resemble Anaria in the slightest. It only made sense as they did not share the same blood. His eyes were sandy yellow, while his eyes were bright blue. And yet, one need only have looked in his face to see the strength, the kindness and the goodness to see that he and Anaria shared some type of kinship. He was not dressed in any sort of finery or expensive silks, as so many might have been doing in his position. Instead, he wore the plain clothes of a soldier. There was just something that made one feel immediately at ease.

Once he had listened to Felix's whispered report, his eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked at the three strangers for a moment, before a relieved smile spread across his face. He came towards them, his stride easy and confidant. He stopped in front of Lancelot and said, respectfully. "I am honored to welcome you. I cannot tell what a joy it is for me to see you here. My name is Jerome."

Lancelot blinked, and for a moment he did not know what to say. He clearly had not expected to be greeted in such a manner. Jerome's manner was so clearly relieved, so open and enthusiastic, that it was impossible he could be playing them false. "And we are pleased to accept that welcome." Lancelot at last managed to say. "My name is Lancelot. I must say that we were not expecting to see a welcome such as this."

A look of sadness clouded Jerome's face. "Yes, well, I am sorry that we could not meet as we should have, with peace and no lives lost. As it is, blood must taint our first meeting."

"Forgive me for asking this, what happened here exactly? We have heard nothing but rumors back at Camalann. And none have painted this region in a very good light."

"And there is a good part of those rumors that was very true for a time, I am afraid." Said Jerome, "But I was planning to tell these things when the time was right. And that time has come." He gestured behind him to the table where he had before been standing conferring with his other followers. "Please, sit." He called for one of the attendants to bring wine for his guests. Lancelot, Anaria and Tristran sat, all of them (Anaria especially) feeling a bit overwhelmed by this, but they felt that they could trust Jerome, and besides, they had come to give him a fair hearing.

Wine was brought and Jerome began to tell his story. "Things in this province have not been going well the past year. My father, Ian, has been growing more ill with each passing months, and it was not thought that he would survive for long. He had groomed me as his successor even since I can remember. I was to take over governing of this province when I came of age; this was no secret to anyone who knew my father well. But there were some who had different ideas.

"To make the story short, my father's strength in mind and body was all but gone. It was only at this point that the revolt happened. One of my father's advisors, a man by the name of Andred had been drawing together support, for some time in secret. He declared my father unfit to rule and set himself up as regent.

"I tried to stop him, but the revolt came as completely unexpected. Andred was always one to cause trouble, but I don't think that anyone would have thought him capable of something like this. However, Andred was too powerful, at first, he had too many followers. He threatened my life, and the life of my father; I had no choice but to keep silent.

"Andred proceeded to consolidate his position. A reign of terror engulfed the land, everyone who showed even the slightest resistance were put to death or mutilated. Andred knew no mercy and the taste of absolute power drove him mad. He began to see enemies where there none; that only increased the bloodshed that was soaking the land.

"When your messengers came from Arthur Castus, and his messenger of kingship, the news caused him to break. He killed both of them in cold blood, right here in this chamber. But it was also the deciding factor for me.

"I had been working secretly with Felix. It was not hard to find people who would be willing to follow me. Those who had thought to support Andred soon learned the extent of their mistake. They were either executed, or stripped of their power. Andred was determined that he would share his success with no one. As it was, I knew that I could not afford to wait long. Andred's patience would run out, and he would find some way to get rid of me. When the news came to us of Arthur's ascent, I knew that it was time.

"Two weeks ago, I led a group of men to the gates. I told them that I was there to reclaim the title that was mine by rights. I didn't receive any resistance. I caught Andred and his followers unawares. We managed to defeat them. I have been working to restore order ever since."

Lancelot, Tristran and Anaria all looked at Jerome in silence. "You tell your story plainly, Jerome." Said Lancelot, "It does credit to you."

"Thank you, Lancelot. And I can promise you that every word is true. I am sorry that we must meet under such circumstances. But I do want to try and do things right. I am willing to speak with you and discuss Arthur's terms."

Lancelot smiled. He was relieved. He had never expected that this mission would turn out like this. What was more, he liked something about Jerome's sincere, open nature that he liked already. "It will be a pleasure to work with you."

"If I may ask one question?" The voice belonged to Anaria, who had said nothing this entire time.

Jerome looked at her in slight confusion. "What is it?"

"Andred, is he still alive?"

"Why should you want to know?"

"Please just tell me."

Jerome looked at her very hard, almost as if he were trying to understand something without Anaria. "He is dead. I killed him myself. I tried to offer him mercy, but he gave me no choice."

Anaria closed her eyes, and breathed a deep sigh. The news that Andred was dead left her feeling strangely odd. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Tristran, as if sensing her struggle laid a comforting hand on her shoulder; he did not say anything. But he knew that he didn't need to at this particular moment.

Jerome was still staring intently as Anaria, as if he recognized her out of a long forgotten dream. "You seem to have known Andred at some point in your life. But I see how that's possible."

"Andred ruined my life. And it's only been these last few months that I have been able to forget that."

Both Jerome and Anaria seemed to have completely forgotten about anyone else in the room. "Forgive me, lady. But I feel somehow I know you. You remind me of someone."

Anaria had been so wrapped in the story that Jerome was telling, that she hadn't noticed the quick, side-long glances that he had been casting her way since the first time he had seen her with the two knights. She didn't know that something about her had tripped his memory. She had not expected that he would recognize her on his own, or even with her telling him. So, when he said this, she was surprised. "Who do I remind you of?"

"My sister." Said Jerome, quietly, "She died nearly eight years ago. I was only a child at the time, but the memories I carry of her are strong. Her name was…"

"Isolde. Yes, I know that." She finished for him.

Jerome rose slowly to his feet, his eyes never leaving Anaria's face. "How could you possibly know that?"

Anaria also rose to her feet, looking eye to eye with Jerome. "My name is Anaria. But for the first years of my life, my name was known as Isolde." Jerome drew in a breath of shock, it was clear that he could not find any words to say. Anaria continued. "I also had a brother, and his name was Jerome. He was you."

Jerome had to take a moment to fully process this information. But when he finally spoke, his voice was trembling with suppressed joy. "You have brought me a greater gift, Lancelot, than peace for the people that I lead. You have brought my sister back to me; I am ever in your debt for that.

Jerome came around to stand in front of Anaria and he took one of her hands. Touching her face, he seemed to be connecting the image that he remembered as a boy to the woman who he now saw before him. "You have changed, somewhat." He commented, "And yet, I still see the woman who I knew as my sister. But still, I am sure that there is a story to your disappearance."

"There is, but it doesn't just have to do with where I have been." She cast a glance at Tristran, a look that showed clearly of the bond between them, a look which Jerome could not fail to notice. "It also has far more to do with my time here."

"Than it is a story that I shall look forward to hearing." He looked at Lancelot, "You are all my honored guests. Tomorrow, we can discuss business. For tonight, we celebrate."

* * *

Hope that everyone liked that, and it maybe made up for being so long in coming. Hopefully, now that it is summer, things will be a bit more regularly updated. As always, read and review.

Next chapter: Anaria, as if she hasn't had enough surprises already, discovers that someone she loved very deeply is still alive, and she has come just in time to say goodbye.


	7. Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye:

Jerome proved to be as good as his word. He had said that they would celebrate and celebrate they did. As it had occurred on such short notice, he was not able to put together much, but it was a decent meal, and many of the leading men of the village had come to meet Lancelot. After the oppressive and difficult few months which the people had gone through, there was no mistaking the feeling of new hope amongst everyone who was there. Before the night was out, no doubt, that hope would be spreading to everyone who lived in the valley.

It was during the festivities of the night that Jerome heard the story of Tristran and Anaria's love affair. He expressed surprise at the extent of what they had been willing to go to. He had only been twelve at the time, and though insightful for his age, he could have had no idea of the intense relationship that the two of them had shared.

Nonetheless, he could see the deep bond that was between them, and he approved of Tristran already. However, hearing this story, it also brought to his mind something that he had not yet brought up with Anaria, but that he knew he had to tell her before she left.

"Anaria," he said, a little while after she had finished telling him the story. He still felt unused to calling her by the name of her Woad heritage. He was endeavoring to remember that, because, even though she had said nothing, it was clear that "Anaria" was the name which she preferred to be known by. "There is something that I need to tell you. It's about our father."

"Yes, I was hoping to pay my respects before we left. When was he buried?"

Jerome shook his head, and said in a quiet voice, "Our father is still alive, Anaria."

Anaria's face went white when she heard this, and Tristran, who had been listening with half-an-ear to their conversation, turned and looked at her in obvious concern.

Anaria was staring at Jerome in shock. "My-my father? He is alive?"

"Yes."

"But, you said, earlier-"

"I never said that he dead, only that Anaria had removed him from power. Andred may have had ambitions, but he knew better than to attempt to murder the governor of the region. It was far better to simply let him live and lock him up in some forgotten corner and wait for nature to take its course. Of course, Andred never seemed to take into account that stress of being deposed would only accelerate his illness. I only managed to get to him in time to make his last days on earth as comfortable as I could."

"Than he is-"

Jerome nodded. "Yes, he's dying. I surprised that he made it this long. And to be quite honest, I don't think it was all recent events which caused him to decline. He was never fully the same after you died, or supposedly died. He became distant and seemed to spend more and more time away from the present and living in the past. I think, for the past eight years, he had been dying of a broken heart."

Anaria was to numb to speak. She had not expected this. She had, of course, hoped, dreamed that maybe one day she would be able to see him again, just to tell him that she had forgiven him, and that she loved him. But, truth be told, she had never truly thought that she would ever have that chance. "Why are you telling me this?"

"He's still conscious sometimes. Sometimes, he's in his right wits, but strangely, there are times when he only wants to see you. He asks for you, and never believes us when we say that it is impossible. I feel that if he were to see you, talk to you, then he would at least be able to die in peace. That is the best any of us can do for him now." He was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Would you like to see him?"

Anaria did not hesitate. This would be the only chance she had; she couldn't let this last piece of her past slip away. She nodded and got up to follow Jerome. Tristran seemed also ready to stand and follow her, but Anaria stopped him. "No, Tristran please let me do this on my own."

Tristran reluctantly sat back down, knowing that this was Anaria's fight. But he still hated to think that there were some fights which he could not help Anaria with.

Jerome led Anaria through the castle, hallways that Anaria found herself remembering all too well. He stopped at the door that she remembered as her father's private chamber. "Go in," he said, "I have no idea if he may be awake, but I have no doubt that he will recognize you. I believe that all this time, he has been waiting for you."

Jerome put a hand on her shoulder and then left her alone. Anaria was left on her own to make the entrance. Anaria walked up to the door and pushed it open. The room was washed in moonlight from one of the open windows, making it seem almost as bright as day. However, she really didn't need any light to know that she had stepped into the room of a sick man. She could clearly hear the rasping breaths that were occurring in an obviously irregular manner. The sound made her skin crawl. She knew that sound all to well; it was the breath of someone who was on the very brink of death.

She came further into the room, hardly seeing any of the details but for the bed that was in the room, and the man who was in it. She had expected to see him ill, but even she was not prepared for the extent of what she saw.

Ian Marcellus had once been one of the strongest fighting men in his regiment, a captain who could take down several men his size and bigger without any trouble. But the man how lay before her was a mere shadow of that glory. It might have even been wondered in the ignorant mind if any of these stories were true. Ian's face was as white as bone. His once strong flesh had disintegrated, leaving his face sunken and drawn. He looked like a skeleton lying under the covers. He lay so still that he very well could have been thought dead, were it not for the breath that rasped from his lungs every time he exhaled.

Anaria bit back a sob. What her brother had said was true: he was truly beyond all help. Coming forward, she sat down on the bed and hesitantly took one of his hands; his skin was clammy and cold. Death was taking him and it wouldn't be much longer.

"Father." She said, softly.

She hadn't meant to wake him, she hadn't even been sure if he would ever open his eyes again. But when she spoke, Ian's eyes opened slowly and he looked at her. He stared hard at her for several seconds and then, he smiled tiredly. "Isolde. I always knew that you would be one of the first to greet me."

Anaria tried to smile back at him through his tears, and squeezed his hand. "No, father. It's not like that. I'm alive, so are you, this isn't… this isn't the place you think it is, not yet."

Ian's eyes shifted from her face to scan the room around him. Wearily, he sighed. "I should have known, death cannot come soon enough." He turned back to gaze at her. "But who are you? Why are you here? Am I just imagining you?"

No, father. I'm as real as you are. I've been alive all this time that you thought I was dead."

Ian looked at her for a few moments. "You truly are real?" he didn't need an answer. He laughed, a tired, old sound that sounded so strange to her ears. "Why do I feel so unsurprised? I hoped for along time that the reports weren't true. But time killed those dreams and for the past few years, I have lived with hardly any hope at all. Don't tell me your story, Isolde. I don't have the time to hear it. It is enough to know that you're alive." He began to cough, the effort racking his body and causing him obvious pain. There was nothing Anaria could do to help him, except to stroke his hand and try to sooth him. Ian finally got control of his lungs and began to speak once more. "Isolde, can you ever forgive me for my crimes, all the things that I did against you and your people."

"Father, I forgave you a ling time ago. I never hated you."

"For over twenty years, I have struggled with my guilt. I was weak. Only now at the end of my life so I see how much if a fool I have been. But, now I know that I can die in peace. You know, I suppose what has happened here, with Jerome and Andred?"

"Yes, Jerome told me."

"He's a good man. He will do well. And Andred's influence in permanently removed from him. I want you to know, Isolde, that I didn't know what he did to you and Tristran. I never would have allowed it if I had."

"Yes, I know that, father. But I must tell you something else, Tristran is alive as well, and we are married."

Ian's eyes expressed shock. "Tristran is alive?"

"Yes, you see, father, we were in love all those years ago. We had to hide it, and I didn't like hiding it from you, but-"

Ian's hand suddenly gripped Anaria's with renewed urgency and he leaned forward as much as he could. "Isolde, listen to me, don't try to speak there is much to say and only a very little time for me to say it. Soon, I'm going to be dead, but first, I must tell you the one thing that I always wanted to tell you and that I should have said from the beginning." He paused to take a breath and then said, "I knew, Isolde, all along, I knew about you two. I saw the way that you two looked at each, always noticed when you stayed out longer in the woods than was necessary, saw all the little signs that spoke so much of the way you felt for each other. Even if I only suspected at first, I knew for sure when you went to so much effort to treat him after he had been wounded. I also began to suspect that you would run away to join him after he left."

"You knew?" said Anaria, so shocked that she could hardly say anything else. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that her father had ever had the slightest idea about her relationship with Tristran. "You knew and you did nothing to separate us?"

"How could I, Isolde? I knew that with him you found what you had been looking for all your life. I, too, had been in love once, and I couldn't deprive you of that I always wanted for you. I never would have been able to support you openly, however much I may have wanted, too. But I would have given what help I could. Had you not insisted on your marriage to lord Mark, I wouldn't have tried to separate you." He smiled softly, "But, now I don't need too. I believe you are where you were always meant to be. My blessing is yours. Please, tell him that. Now, with you here, I can die in peace, for now my life is truly blessed."

"Father, you can't die." Said Anaria, her eyes burning with tears. She hated the fact that she could do nothing. It was inevitable, but it made her pain all the worse. "Please, don't go now."

Ian didn't seem to hear her. Instead, through great effort, he lifted his hand and caressed her face gently. "My beautiful Isolde, you may never have been my own by blood, but I could never have loved you more had you been my daughter. I love you, and I always have. Please, remember that." His eyes suddenly moved from her to some point above and beyond Anaria's head. His eyes grew wide with joy, and Anaria suddenly began to feel that he could see another presence in the room besides her, and even she could almost sense the spirit of her adopted mother. "Portia? My love, is it really you? You've come to take me home? I always knew we would see each other again. Take me with you. I'm ready."

As he said these words, Anaria could have sworn that her father's face grew younger and she saw for an instant the man that he had once been. The moment seemed endless and then it was over. His head lolled and fell back on the pillows. Anaria felt his hand fall away from her face and drop to his side. He breathed once more and then his rasping lungs stilled. It was only then, that Anaria knew for certain: her father was dead, but he was finally, and forever, free.

Anaria reached out and gently closed his eyes. "Rest in peace, father."

She sat there for a long time, unmoving and uncomprehending. She felt numb, void. She knew that she should feel some sort of sadness, but she didn't know how she could bring herself to feel it. She was so wrapped up in her feelings, that she didn't hear the soft sound of a door opening, the soft murmur of voices and the door closing once more. She didn't notice Tristran standing there behind her or the look of sympathy in his eyes. He couldn't even begin to know the depths of what she was feeling, but he knew that he had to offer some comfort.

He came forward and sat down beside her. She took no notice of him and merely continued to stare at the dead man in front of her. "Anaria." He said, softly, but he received no answer. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Anaria." Anaria, her trance broken, turned to look at him. Tristran saw a thousand emotions in her eyes, none at which he could come close to fathoming.

She couldn't bring herself to hold herself in any longer. An overpowering wave of grief engulfed her, and she found that she was powerless to resist.

She buried her face in his shoulder and wept. His arms came around her, protecting her in an embrace that she could depend on for as long as she needed. She didn't speak, and he wasn't going to. In such a time, words would do neither of them any good.

The world outside that little room was in the process of celebrating a new beginning, perhaps never thinking that grief can sometimes exist right beside happiness.

* * *

Hope that everyone liked this chapter, especially as it was the second one in a week. It was a bit sad, and the next chapter will also have some somber stuff in it, but the payoff is that there will be more Tristran. And, I do promise that there is going to be some happy fluff coming up soon. Until then, read and review, as always.

Next chapter: Anaria, with the help of Tristran, finally manages to let go of her past. And a new promise of hope for their future together is hinted at.


	8. Letting Go

Letting Go:

A few days later, the company that had been sent to the south was making its final preparations to depart for Camalann. Lancelot had found that his initial impressions of Jerome were more than justified; the man who was now leading the province seemed well ready for the responsibilities that such a position as his would require. When he had heard of Arthur and his brave deeds, as well as the plans he had for the country, Jerome immediately agreed to submit himself to Arthur's rule. A new way of life to begin and Jerome was just the man to lead it.

But, there was one dark cloud that hovered over this bright new dawn, and that was Anaria. For nearly three days, she had seemed to live in a trance. She participated in the festivities but her heart clearly wasn't in it. The only person who was able to get anything more out of her than a few words at a time was Tristran and even he knew that he could do nothing to cure the true root of her oppressive sadness.

Three days after Ian's tragic death, the knights were preparing to leave the place behind and get back to Badon Hill.

"Well," said Lancelot, as he and Tristran were preparing their horses in the courtyard during the early morning hours, "I didn't think that I would say this when we began this mission, but I might miss this place when we leave."

"I wish that I could say the same, but the truth is, I will be glad to leave, for Anaria's sake if nothing else." said Tristran.

Lancelot cast Tristran a sympathetic glance. During their time at the castle, Lancelot had been able to see a marked difference in Tristran's behavior since they had come to the castle. Some of the darker Tristran that he had known for so many years had crept back into his nature. He was moody, distracted and wasn't talking much to anyone. Lancelot could only assume it was because of Anaria.

"Is everything all right, Tristran?"

"What makes you think that there is something wrong?" asked Tristran gruffly.

"I don't know. You've just seemed rather tense these past few days."

Tristran paused turned to face Lancelot, "Let's just say that I will be much happier when I can get Anaria away from here, and back to where she isn't constantly assaulted by memories." Lancelot knew Tristran well enough that he didn't have to ask what his companion meant.

At that moment, Jerome appeared in the courtyard and approached their horses, "I wasn't expecting a personal sendoff." said Lancelot, smiling warmly at Jerome. "I've been accustomed to being treated as less than dirt by Roman nobility. You're going to discredit your class."

"I hope so." said Jerome earnestly, "after so long the rules need to change." He then turned to Tristran and said, "I hope that the next time we meet, it will not be under such circumstances as this."

Tristran had come to respect Jerome almost as much as Lancelot, but he hadn't gotten a chance to get to know him as well as he would have liked to, as he spent so much time with Anaria in the past few days, "That is what I hope as well. And, I am sorry about your father."

Jerome nodded and looked down, as if trying to collect his emotions, before meeting Tristran's gaze once more. His eyes held a look of muted pain. "Nothing can change what happened. My father deserved a better death. But I intend to make sure that the events which have plagued his region will never occur again." There was no doubt that he meant every word of what he had said. "I am rather sorry to see you leaving so soon. I had hoped that I might have more of a chance to establish a deeper understanding. As well as spending time with Anaria; eight years is a long time." He looked around him. "Speaking of which, have you seen her?"

Tristran stopped what he was doing and looked at Jerome, his eyes suddenly worried, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought that I might find her here. I saw her last night, when she told me goodbye, but I haven't seen her since."

"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her either." said Lancelot, "How about you, Tristran?"

Shook his head, "No, I haven't, but I'm sure that I know where she is. You go on with the others, Lancelot. Once I have found her, than we'll catch up with you."

Lancelot knew that there wasn't anything he could do to talk Tristran out of this, "Very well, Tristran, if you feel that this is what you have to do."

Yes, it is." said Tristran as mounted Erim (AN that's Tristran's horse by the way, in case you forgot). "Trust me."

As he rode out of the gates in the direction of the forest, Jerome asked Lancelot, "How can she know where she is?"

"With Tristran, it's almost impossible to tell how he knows what he knows. When you spend fifteen years with him, you begin to know that it's best to just have faith in him, even if you think he's going mad. He's saved the lives of Arthur and many of the knights more than a few times."

"Well, he seemed to be sure. That will have to be good enough."

"We have to be going." said Lancelot," Arthur still needs all of the help he can holding Britain together,"

"Be sure and tell him that he need only call on me if he ever needs help. Also, that I shall come to pay my proper respects to both him and his queen when I get the first opportunity."

"I will tell him." said Lancelot, as he mounted, "Good bye, Jerome, and good luck."

"Safe journey." said Jerome, as he stood and watched Lancelot trot out of the gates to join his men that had already assembled on the main road. Once they were gone, he turned and walked back into the castle. Arthur was not the only one who had some rebuilding to do. For Jerome, the task of rebuilding his home had only just begun.

* * *

The woods of southern Britain were just as beautiful and peaceful as Tristran remembered them. Still the sounds of birdsong and insects harmonized with the wind-rustled leaves. Still the sunlight turned the forest floor a dappled carpet of light that danced and shifted as the trees moved in the breeze.

It was in these woods, guarding Anaria against danger nearly nine years ago that he had fallen in love with her. It was here that they had stolen precious moments away from the prying and dangerous eyes of those at the castle who would have betrayed them. Those times had ultimately come to a tragic and violent end. He had done his best to forget the memories which had grown in these woods, which had been, undeniably, the happiest times of his life.

Even now that he had Anaria back, he felt, as he rode through the forest, that distinct melancholy feeling that links happiness with sadness. As he rode through these trees, he felt bittersweet. He could only assume that Anaria had felt it more keenly than he.

When the roar of the sea began to mingle with the sounds of the forest, Tristran knew that he was getting close. The path that he had been following began to come out of the tress, until he left the woods behind and was riding along the sea shore. The sound of the surf crashing against the shore soon outgrew the music of the forest, and Tristran was greeted with the awesome speckle of the blue sea that stretched endlessly out to the horizon, the sky seeming to come down and join the waters in an unbroken sheet of blue. The wind blew in crisp and clean from the east, bringing with it the salty tang of the ocean.

Tristran felt his heart begin to beat faster as a vivid memory began replaying in his mind. The blue sky had been covered by angry storm clouds; the rain had been coming down in pelting sheets, soaking both him and Anaria to the bone. Thunder and lightening had exploded into the sky above them in a dangerous fireworks display of the raw power of nature. That memory was so vivid to him because of the fact that was during that time they had first kissed, when they had first said that they loved each other. If Tristran knew Anaria as well as he liked to think he did, she would have tried to escape from the sadness of the past few days in the very place where they had spent so many happy moments in times past.

Tristran's keen eyes soon caught sight of what it was that he looking for. Celeste, Anaria's spirited black mare, was grazing on the course grass of the dunes, her mane and tail blowing gently in the breeze. Anaria was nowhere in sight, but Tristran didn't need to see her to sense that she was close by.

He pulled Erim to halt beside Celeste, "I knew it." he said softly, "I knew that she would come here." He dismounted from his horse and said, "Stay here, both of you, and don't wander." He knew that both of the horses would both obey.

He walked away from them, through the dunes and out onto the beach itself. After walking along the sand for a few minutes he saw the dark outline of a cave nestled in and amongst the rocks, so well hidden that one had to look close to be sure that it was really there. But, Tristan knew the place too well to have to search for it. Even after eight years, he felt a connection with the place which he and Anaria had used to escape from reality and create a world of their own. Anaria was undoubtedly there.

He reached the mouth of the cave and peered inside. His suspicions proved to be correct. Anaria sat in the cave, her knees tucked up under her chin and her eyes staring at some far away place. Tristran could see that she had been weeping. Tristran had come to find out that he absolutely hated to see Anaria crying. What had made it worse over the past few days was his overpowering feeling of helplessness that he had been feeling in the face of her grief; somehow, he felt that he couldn't comfort her in the way that she needed most.

Anaria who hadn't heard his approach, started suddenly and looked up, "Tristran, what are you doing here?"

"We couldn't find you when we were ready to leave. I was worried about you. I decided to come and find you."

"How did you know I would be here?"

Tristran laughed slightly as he moved into the cave to sit beside her, "You're forgetting how well I know you, Anaria. It was obvious that you would come here."

Anaria knew that there was indeed very little that she could hide from Tristran, "Do you remember this place?"

"How could I forget?" asked Tristran, "Something happened here that changed my life forever."

Anaria gestured to a spot a few feet away from them, "There. That's the place where you first told me that you loved me and where I said that I loved you in return."

"It's something that I've never been able to forget." He glanced sideways at her, "But you didn't come here to remember that, did you?"

Anaria shook her head and hugged her keeps closer to her body, "No, I didn't." Turning to face him, she said, as new tears began to form in her eyes, "Looking back, have you ever regretted any of it?"

Tristran shook his head, "Never. How could I have when you gave me so much?"

"But all the pain, the hardship, the separation? You never looked back at that and thought that it would have been better if you had never met me at all?"

Tristran didn't know where this conversation was leading, but he knew that right now, Anaria needed comfort. Gently, he took her hands in his, "Anaria, I won't lie to you. The past eight years have been hard. There were times when I questioned why things had to turn out the way they did, why had love been given only to be taken away. I have questioned why fate brought you into my life, only to have you snatched away from me. But, I have _never_ regretted it. Even in my darkest hour, regret was never part of my feelings. Remorse, perhaps, that it had ended the way it did, but never regret."

He continued staring at her and saw that her tears still hadn't abated. When no answer to what he had said was not forthcoming, he finally asked the question that had been burning in him for the past three days. "Anaria, what is wrong?"

Anaria took a few moments to collect herself and said, shakily, "He knew about us, Tristran. My father told me that he knew about us from the very beginning. He... he said that he knew we were in love and he did nothing to separate us. He would have even let me go after you when you had left. Had I not insisted on marrying Mark, than he wouldn't have stopped us from being together. Now, I find that I am imagining what might have been, and if we handled everything wrong."

"We couldn't have handled it any differently. If we had been open even for a moment in what we felt for each other, than we would have paid a much heavier price than we ended up having to pay. Nothing could have changed, Anaria, we did what we had to." He looked at her for a moment and said softly, "Do you have any regrets?"

"No."

"Than what is troubling you?"

"Just coming back, finding that so much has changed, and yet so much has remained the same. I have lost so many people that I care about. I can't remember what was good about this play anymore, only the all too short bright moment of you."

Tristan sat silently for a moment, before he asked her quietly. "Do you wish that you had not come back?"

Anaria faced him. "No, I don't. I think that I had to so that I knew that this art of me was dead. But, I still don't know if it is."

"Anaria, perhaps it is not that your past needs to be dead. It is a part of you, and you cannot deny that it shaped you. But you can let it go. You cannot spend your whole life grieving for what has or might have been. You cannot let your past control the future that you are meant to live. Leave the past behind you, right now; leave it here on the shores of the sea. Let go, Anaria, just let it go."

Together they sat in silence, Tristran saying no more, for there was no more to say. What it was that Anaria thought or felt in that reflective silence no words or poetic phrasing can ever come close to revealing. So, here, it shall not even be attempted. Suffice it to say, that in that cave, she finally laid her ghosts to rest. They might always be with her, but she was now sure that she would not let them haunt her anymore.

Finally, she turned to her husband. Nothing needed to be said; Tristran understood just by looking into her eyes, she was finally free. "What is that you want, Anaria?" he asked.

"I want life to be simple, with you." She said, "I want to go home."

Tristran nodded, "Than come with me, and I will take you there." Taking her hand, he led her out of the cave, and together, the two retraced their steps to where Celeste and Erim were grazing. Mounting up, they rode away to the north, soon to catch up with Lancelot and the rest of the party, toward Camalann, and home.

Anaria would never again return to that place on the western seashores where she had been raised. What Tristran had said was true, it is impossible to move forward when the past is all that you cling too. Anaria had let go of her past and was ready to face the future.

Little did she or Tristran suspect just what the future had in store for them. Fate was soon to reveal to them both a new beginning, which would come in the form of a new life that Anaria was carrying inside of her, a life that had been formed from both herself and Tristran.

* * *

I hope that everyone liked this chapter. Sorry if things have been a little morose and depressing the last few chapters, but at least you get some Tristran action, which is always good. And the next few chapters will be much more happy and upbeat, I promise, especially since I dropped that little hint in the last sentence. Okay, maybe it was a big hint. But still, it's something to look forward too. However, in the meantime, be sure to review.

Next chapter: We return to the Wall, where several events are about to be set in motion. We are about to meet a new character, who will play a big role in the upcoming drama and Anaria and Tristran find out the wonderful news which will change their lives forever.


	9. A New Arrival

Here it it is. Two brand-new chapters. Since this one chapter is kind of short, I thought that I would make this posting a double-header. It might actually be a good thing, because this chapter kind of closes this arc and the next chapter opens up the new one. In this chapter, we also get introduced to a new OC, who will come to play a rather large part in the proceedings of the story. So, everyone sit back and enjoy.

A New Arrival:

The journey back to Camalann made all the difference for Anaria's state of mind. It seemed that the farther they got from the south and all the memories that it held for her, the more her soul became soothed. She didn't speak of the more personal things that had passed on their journey, and as the real truth of the matter was known only to Lancelot and Tristran, no one asked her about it.

However, on the day that they came within sight of Camalann, one could never have guessed that the last few days had been such a trail to her spirit. She was smiling and almost happy. She felt, after so long of drifting, that she had finally found a real home in Camalann. It was a feeling that she rather liked.

They rode into the main gates of the town. They reined their horses to a stop in front of the Fortress Hall. Arthur and Guinevere, having been alerted to their approach, were waiting for them.

"How did everything go?" asked Arthur, as Lancelot and the others dismounted.

"Far better than I think any of us expected." Said Lancelot. He was anxious to tell Arthur of the events that had passed on their mission, and that Arthur now had one more ally he could count on in times of trouble.

Guinevere herself went up to greet Anaria. She had been a little worried about her cousin over the past few days. She had known that this would be a difficult journey for Anaria to make. "Are you all right?" she asked her.

"Yes, I think that I am." Replied Anaria, "It wasn't easy, none of it was. But I think that I have found something that I have been looking for for a very long time. I think that I am now finally ready to move on."

Guinevere smiled. She could see in her cousin's eyes that this was indeed true. "I am glad." There was nothing more than needed to be said on the subject. They both knew that it was over.

"So, anything exciting happen while we were gone?" Anaria asked.

"As a matter of fact, you will never guess who just got here. Rudyard, he got here this morning."

Anaria looked slightly surprised by this news, and she maybe felt a little trepidation. "Really? He's here already? I wasn't expecting him so soon."

"He traveled fast. He was eager to be here as soon as he received the message." She dropped her voice a little and said, "I do think that he really wants to make things up to you, Anaria, especially after what happened at your wedding."

Anaria managed to smile. "Don't worry, Guinevere. After the past few days, facing Rudyard will be a simple matter."

It was at this point that this new arrival which they had been discussing made his appearance. Rudyard came out from the fortress barracks, and walked over to Lancelot and Arthur. Rudyard was of medium-build, strong and capable. His shoulder-length hair was a murky-brown color. His grey eyes burned with the familiar light of a proud fighter. The sign of the sun was emblazoned on his forehead. He moved with the silent, quick grace of someone who had spent all of his life in the forest.

Rudyard was Woad. He had spent nearly all of his life fighting against Rome's occupation of his homeland. Because of that, he had been brought into conflict with Arthur and the rest of his knights on more than a few occasions. He was therefore, perhaps, just a little nervous as he approached Arthur and met Lancelot for the first time. Lancelot, too, might have been a bit wary, though their greeting was cordial enough.

Anaria, taken by a sudden thought, went over to them and said, "Rudyard, I'm so glad to see you."

Rudyard turned to her, as did Lancelot. The Woad seemed even more awkward by Anaria's interrupting their conversation, than he had been with Lancelot. "Anaria, hello. It has been rather a long time."

Anaria smiled a little, trying to put him a bit at ease. 'Yes, it has. So, what do you think of Camalann?"

"I'll let you know in a few days once I've got acclimated. It's rather different from the forest.'

"Yes, it is. But it's not really so bad once you get used to it. The knights aren't all that bad either, though they take a bit more getting used too than the surroundings."

Lancelot, who had been listening to conversation, shot Anaria a glance of mock hurt. "Anaria, I didn't think we were that bad."

"Yes, well maybe it has something to do with being a woman. I don't know how you men bond. You should spend some time at the tavern, Rudyard. Maybe you can give some of them a few pointers on drinking."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows and looked at Rudyard with renewed interest. "You know about drinking?"

Rudyard smiled, seeming to catch onto Anaria's line of reasoning. "I might have picked up a few things living with the Woads."

"I wouldn't want to go up against him in a contest, Lancelot, especially Bors. Rudyard would be able to beat you quite easily."

"I wouldn't let Bors hear you say that. You know how boasts of his drinking talents." He looked at Rudyard, "You may have to come down sometime, Rudyard. Your presence would be welcome, and so would your competition.'

"Thank you, Lancelot. I might take you up on that offer."

Lancelot went into the fortress with Arthur and Guinevere, the three of them listening to Lancelot's report of what had happened in the south. Rudyard turned to Anaria. "Thank you, Anaria. You always did know how to diffuse an awkward situation."

Anaria laughed a little. "I hardly think that I deserve such praise, but thank you all the same. Just give it, time, Rudyard; you will fit in fine."

"I'm certain that I will." He looked down, his attitude suddenly growing a little embarrassed. "Guinevere tells me that I have you to thank for my being here."

"Or to blame, whichever one you prefer."

"I'm serious, Anaria. After what I said at your wedding, I didn't think that I would ever hear another good word from you. Not that I would have deserved it in any case."

Anaria could tell that this confession was difficult for Rudyard to make. "I always had a great deal of respect for you, Rudyard. I know that my marriage must have been difficult for you, but you are here now, so I think we can, and should, put our differences behind us."

"I won't lie, Anaria. A part of me still wishes that things had worked out between us. But I can see that you have made your choice and I will respect that. I hope that we can at least be friends and colleagues."

Anaria smiled and held out a hand, "I think we can, Rudyard. What with both of us being on the Round Table together, it might be best for us to find a way to work together."

Rudyard, after looking at her hand for a moment, took it gingerly and gave it a little squeeze. "Thank you, Anaria."

An understanding between a former suitor and the woman who rejected him can never fully erase tension or awkwardness. Anaria knew she would never be able to count Rudyard as one of her close friends. But she believed that she could accept him as an ally.

Rudyard, after standing a few seconds before her with really nothing else to say, rather quickly said, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm Arthur and Guinevere still have much to discuss with me." With that, he turned and walked away into the barracks.

Anaria watched him go; feeling at peace with how this first meeting had gone. However, when she happened to look behind her, she saw Tristran, who had observed the whole thing. His eyes were dark with dislike and he was glowering. His disapproval was all too obvious.

He came over to her. He looked after Rudyard and said, "That's Rudyard, isn't it?"

"Yes. He's here to represent the Woads in Britain on the Round Table."

Tristran did seem overly pleased with this bit of information, not liking the fact that Rudyard was going to be a permanent fixture at Camalann. "Isn't he the one who called a traitor for marrying an outsider like me, instead of one of your own kind, namely him? He is the one who said that you were marrying a dream and not a reality, and that you would come to regret it?"

"Yes."

"Than why on earth is here?"

"Because Arthur asked me to recommend someone, and I thought of Rudyard."

Tristran's face darkened still more. "Should I be jealous?"

Anaria grinned wickedly. She was enjoying this, despite herself. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I just don't like having to think that I will have to live and work alongside a man who insulted you so deeply, and the fact that it comes at your suggestion is even more disturbing."

Anaria took pity of Tristran. "If it is any consolation, Guinevere also suggested him. Tristran, there is nothing to worry about. He is very repentant. He has given up on me, I'm sure. I am willing to give him a chance. You might be surprised if you get to know him. You two are actually quite alike."

"Despite the fact that we both adore the most perfect woman in existence, I doubt that we have anything in common." Huffed Tristran, "Besides, I don't want to get to know him, and he had better keep his distance." His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close. "I do not like to share." He said, roughly.

"You're not going to cut off his head, are you?" asked Anaria, grinning at the new direction that the conversation was taking.

"I can tolerate him." he said, "But beyond that, I'm not looking for anything more. Now, if we could change the subject to something far more pleasant?"

"Did you have anything in mind?"

"I had a few, but they are more conducive to being told in private."

He took by the hand and began to pull her towards the barracks, significantly, in the opposite direction which the others had taken.

"You don't think that they will be missing us?" Anaria asked, "You know that Lancelot will be telling the others about what happened?"

"They'll just have to miss us." Said Tristran, "I think that we deserve some time to ourselves."

Anaria would give him no further argument, and followed him down the hall to their room.

It seemed as though like had indeed returned to normal.

* * *

Just as a side note, before you (hopefully, please, pretty please) hit the "next chapter" button, Rudyard does actually appear in the movie, though he doesn't have a name. He is the Woad that Arthur spares at the end of the fight right at the beginning of the movie and he is the one who is reluctant to back down during the skirmish with the Woads in the forest. I don't know why, but he always truck me as being an interesting character. This story gives me an opportunity to explore what his backstory could have been.


	10. New Life, New Beginning

So, after the doom and gloom and general depressing atmosphere of the last few chapters (essential to any good story and a lot of fun to write, but still depressing, let's face it), we finally get to have some lighter stuff. So, enjoy!

New Life, New Beginning:

_And so with the return to Camalann, a new life began for Anaria and Tristran, one that would not be overshadowed by the past. Perhaps such memories can never truly be put to rest, but they can gradually fade, to be replaced by the gentler emotions of happiness and contentment. Besides, I do not tell this story to dwell upon such things, but rather to show how life can move on._

_At the Wall, time passed.__ Arthur and Guinevere come to be settled in their respective duties of picking up the pieces the Romans had left behind and creating a united, strong nation. Arthur, a man who had never dreamt or even wanted to be a king, became adept at hearing the needs of the common people and granting judgments that were both fair and honest._

_The knights as well grew into their roles as the main line of defense for Britain. And they also became the people that Arthur turned to advice. Nowhere was this more seen than in Lancelot and Tristran, who both seemed to have a flair for politics that neither had even suspected that they had. Lancelot was the one that kept Arthur grounded in reality. For Arthur, though he was undoubtedly an excellent king, could sometimes become too carried away by his idealism to consider the obstacles that would have to be overcome in order to achieve his plans. Tristran was the voice of the alternative, a quiet voice that spoke little and to the point, but which reminded Arthur and everyone else that there were always two sides to one story and more than one way to get things accomplished. The final decision in anything was, of course, left up to Arthur, but he recognized the value of their separate advice and always took it into consideration when he deciding something._

_The other knights also made their own contribution to this process. Some still did want to return home, but, for the time, they would not have traded where they were or what they were doing for anything. It was not long before Rudyard himself was welcomed by the others who sat at the Round Table. He was eager and enthusiastic, wholly supportive of Arthur and Guinevere. To Anaria, he was never anything but respectful and friendly. She was beginning to think that it might be possible for him to move on from her, and that they could be friends. Unfortunately, Tristran had no such feelings. He neither wanted to get to know Rudyard or like him. He kept his distance from Rudyard, and Anaria believed it was only out of respect for her feelings that he never let his deep dislike for the young Woad fully show._

_Guinevere and Anaria were by no means excluded from the council of the Round Table. Both of them were a large part of every meeting and it was most often the woman's voice of reason that kept the hot-headed men from exploding. They both had fiery tempers and strong opinions as well, yet both were able to state them calmly and in such a way that made you listen without arguing. So, it was a balance of both male and female and the strongest ability that both sexes have to debate and make choices that ultimately built up the kingdom by little and little, making it stronger with each passing day._

_And so, spring moved to its midseason. Flowers bloomed, new life sprang from the earth as the days grew longer and warmer. Life continued its normal pattern of that season, mirroring the new growth that was taking place in the kingdom._

_But, for two of it's main players, this spring season would hold more meaning than any other they had ever experienced, in the form of a new life that neither had suspected, but the kind that would set them on a new course for the rest of their days._

The weather of that day should have been conducive to the best of moods. After all, with the warmth of the breeze and the flowers bursting from their buds in a rainbow of color, who would have been able to be angry? However, Anaria had never been one to behave in the manner that should have been most obvious. In direct defiance of nearly all the unspoken rules, she was in a bad mood and Tristran had been suffering because of it nearly all day.

All that day she had been acting as though a black cloud of brooding had settled over her and it showed no signs of clearing up; nearly everything that he had said or done that day had been met with some sort of sarcastic or angry rebuke. It had gotten so bad, that now Tristran wasn't sure if he would even be able to say another word to her until this odd mood of her had passed. He called it odd because he wasn't sure if there was any other way for him to describe it. Anaria had been strangely moody for the past two weeks, going from one emotion to the next seemingly at the smallest whim. One minute she was fine, the next she was crying, then she was inexplicably angry, and took offense at the smallest thing. Tristran hadn't been the only one to suffer from this. The knights had all been victims of these violent mood changes on more than one occasion and though she always apologized, some of them were actually starting to be overly cautious around her.

What made it even worse was that Tristran didn't know why she was behaving so. Anaria had occasionally gone through such extremes of emotion before. But this had been going on for more than two weeks, and it was much more severe than he had ever remembered it to be. That combined with her morning sickness and not being able to eat many things without getting sick a few minutes afterward was making him think that there had to be something more going on. If Anaria knew, she wasn't saying anything and Tristran was sure that he would rather go into battle outnumbered with a bunch of bloodthirsty Saxons than go up against Anaria's stubborn temper.

As he watched her through the half door of the infirmary, he was more convinced than ever that something was wrong with Anaria. She was trying to sort jars of ointment and salve that she had been gathering and making ever since they had come back from the southern coasts. Before Anaria had appeared on the scene, the infirmary had been in rather sorry condition. Its restoration had become something of an obsession with her, and she had spent every spare minute that she could in fixing it up. Only today, she seemed to be having trouble. Tristran could see that her hands were shaking and that she seemed to be having trouble holding onto the jars. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was coming next.

He was right.

CRASH!

The jar fell to the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces. Anaria growled in visible frustration, and bent to begin cleaning up the mess. However, as she began to kneel, Tristran saw her stumble and fall heavily to her knees, a though she had been struck by an unusually bad spell of dizziness. Against his better judgment, he felt his feet moving forward and he was by her side in a moment, concern for her overcoming what might not have been a very good idea in Anaria's current state of mind.

"Anaria, are you all right?"

Anaria had not been aware of his presence, and his voice came as something as a shock to her. "Tristran, what are you doing here?"

"I thought that you might-"

"Were you 'looking in' on me?"

"I was just passing by the door. I saw you and-"

Anaria wasn't so much annoyed that he was there, as the fact that he had seen her drop something. That in and of itself was embarrassing for her, but it also had to do with the fact that he must have seen why she had dropped it. And frankly she had had enough of the questions that had been flying to her the very instant she stepped outside or into a room. Naturally, this wasn't Tristran's fault, but since he was there, and she needed someone to blame at the moment, he became her unfortunate target. "Can't I do anything anymore without someone spying on me and offering me help that's not wanted? How am I supposed to get anything done when I'm constantly interrupted?"

Tristran backed up a few paces during this whole thing. He supposed that he really shouldn't have expected anything different, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that Anaria's harsh words had said hurt him. "Well, since you obviously don't want me here," he said, rather formally, "I'll just leave so I won't be able to bother you anymore."

He turned to leave. Anaria immediately regretted what she had said. Tristran, after all, had been trying to help, and she shouldn't have spoken so harshly with him, "Wait, Tristran." He stopped at the threshold into the infirmary, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

Heaving a sigh, she sat down heavily on one of the beds. Tristran, seeing that Anaria's temper for the moment had abated, came forward and sat down beside her. Her eyes were closed and she was rubbing her temples as though she had a rather bad headache. Tristran noticed also that she looked a little pale. But he decided not to comment on it. She had just calmed down; he didn't want her temper to flare up again.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asked, hoping that she might open up to him.

Anaria shook her head, "Believe me, Tristran; I am as much in the dark as to what is happening to me as you are. Don't think that I haven't been aware that something strange is happening to me. If I knew what was wrong I would tell you, and if I had known, I would have taken steps to try and fix it a long time ago."

Tristran nodded and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "We'll get through this, Anaria. You've been pushing yourself rather hard lately. What with getting this infirmary back in order at the pace you have, I'm surprised that you've managed to find time to sleep. It could just be stress.

"Perhaps. It's as good an explanation as any, I suppose."

"Why don't you stay here when Arthur goes to the northern coasts." aid Tristran, "You could probably do with the rest."

Anaria smiled and actually laughed, "That would probably be for the best. It will be difficult for Arthur and you knights to do your jobs if I bite your heads off for no reason first."

"That was my thought. I didn't think I should say anything, though, lest my head be the first one to be bitten off."

Anaria looked at him and for a split second, Tristran feared that he had said the wrong thing, but then she grinned and said, "You are probably right."

* * *

Two days later, Arthur and the other knights had set forth to the northern coasts. There had been reports of sporadic raids and attacks by small Saxon tribes, who still had the ability to pester and torment the people of Britain, even if they had no resources to launch another full-scale invasion themselves.

Not only had there been reports, there had also been messages to Arthur pleading for his help. As this was the first crisis that had come up against Arthur, there would naturally be many people watching him closely to see how he would react. Thus, he had decided to take some of his knights and a contingent of foot soldiers to the coasts to see what he could do to help his beleaguered countrymen. Guinevere, too, had insisted on going along, since she was determined that she wouldn't turn into a queen that would sit idly by to become nothing more than an elegant figurehead that would be put on display only when some high-ranking person came to visit and than put in the closet to gather dust once they had left. She wanted to show Britain that women were essential to the workings of any nation. Arthur had consented because he not only saw the wisdom of Guinevere's stance and agreed with it, but he also knew that it was impossible to argue with Guinevere when she had made up her mind about something.

When Tristran had left, Anaria found that she got bored rather quickly. This was the first time that she and her husband had been separated since their marriage, and though she had no doubt that he would return, she also found that life without him was rather dull.

The afternoon that he had left, she found herself walking the streets of the Camalann. It was market day and there were various sellers crowding the streets, hawking everything from homespun clothe to fruits and vegetables, which were grown in the fields surrounding Badon Hill. She had bought a few things, but in actuality, she really wasn't listening to what the people were saying. She didn't even really know what her thoughts were made up of. To be perfectly honest, she felt slightly woozy.

As she was walking by the tavern, she was suddenly overcome by dizziness. She found that she really couldn't stand up straight anymore. She staggered a few steps and would have fallen to the cobblestones, had it not been for the timely intervention of Vanora, who appeared at her side, supporting her.

"Anaria, are you all right? What's the matter?"

Anaria shook her head, trying to clear the vapors from her mind, with rather limited success. "I don't know, Vanora."

"Come," said Vanora leading her into the tavern, "Come and sit down."

Once Vanora had Anaria settled at one of the tables; she brought her a glass of water. "Thank you, Vanora." Anaria said, taking the water gratefully.

Vanora sat down opposite her and beamed her a smile, "Well, I knew that you and Tristran were attached to each other, but I never though that you would faint of he were to venture a mile from your side."

"I'm not that dependant on him." said Anaria, annoyed.

"Not from where I'm standing."

Anaria managed to bite back the stinging reply that was forming on her tongue. It wouldn't be a very smart idea to let her recent irritation out on Vanora, "For your information, my friend, this has been going on for nearly a month."

Vanora suddenly looked at Anaria, her interest suddenly peaked, "Oh, what has?

"A smattering of things that I don't understand. I'm sick in the mornings, there are a lot foods that make me want to retch and on top of all this, I've been having these mood swings that I just can't seem to control. This dizziness is only the latest in a long line of symptoms, and believe me, if I could get rid of them I would. They are becoming incredibly irritating."

Vanora had to work hard to keep her face neutral, for this was almost making her want to burst out laughing, "And you have no idea as to what is causing these odd symptoms."

"No, and that's what's making it so difficult to understand..."

Vanora could contain herself no longer. She began to giggle. Anaria stopped speaking and looked at Vanora, "Do you find this funny?"

"Yes," said Vanora, whose giggling was beginning to turn to laughter, "as a matter of fact I do."

"Well, I don't suppose you would care to tell me what you find so amusing?" said Anaria who was beginning to feel a reemergence of her previous bad humor.

"I find it amusing that a woman like yourself, who is an expert healer, can't recognize the signs that should be obvious to any woman."

"Oh, so you know what's wrong with me?"

"To put it simply yes and I would have thought that you would have known too by now."

"Well, it just so happens that I don't, so maybe you could enlighten me."

Vanora made no attempt to hide the triumphant, cheeky look in her eyes, "Anaria, you're pregnant."

Anaria stared at Vanora, completely shocked by what she had just heard. Vanora looked at her closely to try and judge her reaction to the news. She couldn't find it. "Well," she prompted after a few moments silence, "are you pleased or not?"

"Well, I..." said Anaria, finding her voice at last and finding that she had no words to actually express what she was feeling, "I honestly don't know."

Vanora regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "That's not exactly a conventional response. What's wrong?"

"I... I am happy, but what will Tristran say when he finds out?"

A chirp of laughter escaped from Vanora's lips, "Is that all you're worried about? I had hoped that it would have been something more substantial."

"Vanora, it may not make much sense to you, but to me, it means everything. I didn't think that it would happen this soon. We haven't planned for it, haven't talked about it. I don't want to think..."

"Anaria, listen to me, if Tristran loves you, than he will love your child. You have your whole lives ahead of you; he must have taken this into consideration when he asked you to marry him. If he didn't, than he would have been a fool, and Tristran certainly isn't a fool."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. Trust me; I have plenty of experience in this area."

"Really? You?"

"Oh, yes. Every time I get pregnant, I wonder if Bors won't think that we have enough. Each time, I'm astounded at how excited he gets. Tristran, if he loves you as much as I think he does, will be thrilled."

"Well, when you put it that way, perhaps it doesn't seem so bad."

"If you have any concerns or questions, you know where to find me."

Anaria smiled gratefully at Vanora, "You've been a big help, already. Thank you." She got up from the table, feeling a little better than she had been before, and than turned back to Vanora, "Vanora, I would appreciate it if we could keep this just between the two of us."

"No one will hear it from me." said Vanora, returning the smile Anaria had given her, before the Anaria headed back out to the marketplace.

Vanora watched her. Anaria had a kind and gentle spirit. She would make an excellent mother, and Tristran? Vanora had always suspected that there was more to him than the dark scout who has more at home on the battlefield than anywhere else. And ever since he had gotten married to Anaria, she had seen that that was very true. Tristran had a tender side to his nature that he had kept well hidden, but now was coming out more and more in his every day actions. Vanora was sure of what she had said to Anaria, he would be thrilled.

There was of course another reason why Vanora was so happy about the news. After all that Tristran and Anaria had gone through, they deserved every happiness. This new life was part of them both and the beginning of their future, and Vanora was anxious to see just how it would turn out.

* * *

It was about a week after this event that Arthur and the group that had gone on the mission returned to Hadrian's Wall. It had been a rousing success. The Saxons had indeed been terrorizing many coastal areas and villages, but Arthur with his knights had been able to rout them thoroughly. They were greeted with excited murmurs from the townspeople, who all were inwardly relieved that their king and queen, along with the knights had returned safely.

Naturally, the first thing that the knights did when they dismounted was head for the tavern to celebrate their victory. However, two of them hung back, traveling at their own pace, deep in conversation. "I would have given much to be there." Dagonet was saying to Tristran, as he had stayed behind in Camalann, acting as Arthur's regent during his absence.

"Perhaps so, but it was still a battle. This time we all returned, but I fear that there may come a time when some of us won't."

"That is the risk we shall have for the rest of our lives, I think. For, despite the fact that Arthur will always try, there will always be evil in the world that must be fought against. It is our duty."

But Tristran was no longer listening. His attention had been grabbed by a shadow moving in a nearby side street, and he didn't need to look twice to confirm who it was. Instantly, a smile spread across is features and he turned to Dagonet, "Will you excuse me?"

Dagonet had only to glance at where Tristran was looking to see why he wanted to leave, "Of course." he said, and he moved off to join the others.

Tristran walked rapidly to the side street and the next moment, his wife was folded in his arms. He had missed her more than he had thought he would and seeing her was the best welcome that he could ever have asked for. He hugged her tightly before bringing her lips to his own for a gentle kiss. When they faced each other again, Tristran could see that his joy at the reunion was hardly one-sided. Anaria's eyes were sparkling with a happiness that momentarily caused him to stop breathing it made her look so beautiful.

"Oh, Tristran, I'm so glad you're back."

"I've missed you, Anaria." he said, tenderly, "There was never an hour when I didn't think of you."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that you didn't forget about me."

"That is in the realm of impossibility, Anaria. You should know that by now. But, in all seriousness, I'm glad that I'm home."

"How did things go at the Northern coasts?"

"The Saxons were indeed attacking, but it only took a few days of fighting with our forces to make them see that it would be more prudent for them to retreat back to their own shores and leave the innocent in peace."

"And let me guess, you had a rather large part in convincing them of that?"

"You know that I don't like to brag, Anaria. Follow your own thoughts through conclusion, and come up with the answer yourself."

Anaria slapped him playfully on the arm, "You shameless.... I don't know what to call you."

Tristran joined in her laughter, and than said, "And I don't suppose that anything happened here that was of any note. The normal state of affairs, I assume."

Something in Anaria's face suddenly changed. An enigmatic smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, and in her eyes, a secretive light glinted, "Actually something did happen here, Tristran. Something wonderful happened." She had his full, undivided attention now. The nervousness that she had felt for the past few days was gone. It had disappeared the moment that she had seen Tristran. Now, she was just filled with a joy that she couldn't express, bursting to tell him the miracle of the new life that was beginning to grow inside her, "Tristran, I know what's wrong with me. It's actually nothing that _is _wrong. It's meant to happen this way."

"Anaria, you're going to have to be a little clearer. You don't make any sense right now."

She took a deep breath and plunged on, "Tristran, when you were gone, I found out that I am with child."

Tristran looked at her, unsure for a moment if she was teasing. But, that thought lasted only as long as saw the light of unbridled joy in her eyes. "Anaria, that's wonderful. I didn't think that it would happen so soon."

Anaria was surprised by the unexpected enthusiasm she saw in Tristran's face. "Y-You mean, you wanted children?" Though she had expected him to be happy, a part of her had always questioned whether Tristran really wanted children.

"Anaria, of course I did. I may not have always wanted to be a father, but now, I want to be, more than anything. That's part of why I wanted to marry you. Don't you see what having children means? We'll finally have a family, Anaria, one that can never be taken away from us. We'll have a future. Why wouldn't I want children when they would something like that to us?"

Anaria felt tears of utter happiness stinging her eyes. She hadn't been expecting to hear Tristran say anything like that. "I don't know what to say to that."

Tristran laid a hand on her cheek, "Than don't say anything. This," he said softly, tenderly, "this is a happy moment. The happiest moment of life."

The two stayed embracing in the shadows for a long time. The outside world seemingly having disappeared, or at least becoming more of a far away place, the pain of which could never touch them again.

Tristran finally looked into her eyes, "Who else knows?"

"Only Vanora. Though, she did guess it herself. She's the one who actually told me. With all the symptoms I have been having, I should have known myself. She said that she would tell nobody, but I don't know how long she will be able to keep her word with all the knights back."

"You honestly think that any of them would be able to pry it out of her so easily?"

"It's not that I'm concerned she'll tell them anything. I'm more concerned about what they will manage to find out on their own."

"Well, in that case, perhaps we should go there now, and from _our _behavior, let them divine the secret."

"An excellent idea." said Anaria. He started to leave, but Tristran held her back for a moment, "I love you, Anaria."

Anaria smiled, "I love you, Tristran."

And with no further ado, the two walked side by unto the street, heading for the tavern.

* * *

There we go. Two good light-hearted chapters. I sure hope that everyone enjoyed this, especially the opportunity of some fluff between Anaria and Tristran. And yes, before anyone catches me on this, their reunion scene was inspired by the scene between Anakin and Padme in Revenge of the Sith. Hey, it's fan fiction; anything is pretty much free game, as long as you give credit where credit is due.

Anyway, as always, please read and review.

Next chapter: Tristran contemplates his life as a future father, and he turns to an unexpected person for advice.


	11. A Friend's Council

A Friend's Council:

Great was the joy that greeted the announcement of Anaria's expecting. Under the best of any circumstances, such news would have been welcomed from anyone. But with Anaria and Tristran, it seemed a very special case indeed. By this time, even if they were unaware of the greater details, all of the knights knew of what had happened to Anaria and Tristran in the past. It was a general agreement that they deserved some happiness after all that they had gone through.

And they had had happiness in the first months of their marriage, there could not have been a doubt of that. But this news seemed to change both of them in subtle, but significant ways. Anaria, when she was not suffering from mood swings or morning sickness, was all aglow. She had never though that she would ever have the opportunity to have a child, and certainly never with the man whom she considered to be her soul mate. Now, it seemed as if all of her fondest dreams were coming true.

There was also a definite change in Tristran's character that could not be missed, especially by those who had lived at the wall their entire lives and had seen just what Tristran had once been certainly. There had been a change in him with his marriage to Anaria, but, this seemed to make a completely new man out of him. As the report of Anaria's pregnancy began to become common knowledge, people were able to see that Tristran carried himself differently, a new light of purpose was alight in his eyes and towards Anaria, he was more tender and loving than any had ever seen him behave toward any other creature. Overall, there was an unspoken consensus that being a father would be one of the best things that ever happened to Tristran.

However, there was something that began to gnaw at the back of Tristran's mind, something that not he told not even Anaria. Once the initial euphoria of fatherhood wore off, he began to realize that he had no idea of how to _be _a father. He was still excited and proud of the idea, but what he would actually do once the baby arrived, he had absolutely no idea about.

The thought continued to nag at him for about the next week, until he finally decided that the only way to face the problem was to get some advice, and the only person that he knew that would at all be of any help was Bors. Bors had been the only one of the knights to foray onto the path of fatherhood. He had always joked that he didn't want the responsibility of being a father for the rest of his life, but there could not be any denying that he was extremely proud of all of his children. Indeed, since he was now staying at Camalann permanently, he had even gone so far as to consent to Vanora's long-time nagging insistence that they be given names like any ordinary child, though he still seemed to be holding firm against any idea of marrying.

It was eight days since the knights had returned from the southern coasts, and the sun was beginning to set. Tristran had been out riding Erim, which he still did quite often, as he still valued his time alone. As he rode into the stable, he saw that Bors was there, tending to his own mount.

Bors looked up when he saw Tristran come into the stables, leading Erim behind him. He nodded to him in greeting and grinned. "Better enjoy what time you can on your own, Tristran. Those carefree days of being able to do anything you want whenever you want are soon going to be over."

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"Just when Anaria has that baby, you can be sure that she will want your help, on the little things, too. Pretty soon your own life isn't your own, anymore."

"Is that so?"

"Hey, take it from someone who knows."

"Well, if helping my wife to raise my child means that I give up a lifetime of being alone, than it is a sacrifice I will be very willing to make."

"Don't say you haven't been warned, my friend. Though, I suppose, looking back on it, it's not all bad, having a load of little bastards to call your own. Course, you and Anaria probably aren't going to give 'em all numbers are you."

"Since we don't have any idea how many we will be having, we thought we would just stick with names. Maybe later, if more come along, we will consider it."

"You can't believe the fuss that Vanora is making about giving our children names. I never knew that it could be so complicated to pick a name. She keeps sayin' that it has t be a reflection of their personality. Giving them numbers was so much easier."

Tristran smiled faintly. "Despite all your griping Bors, you cannot hide how deeply you care for them."

Bors shrugged. "I won't deny it to you, without 'em, my life would have been a whole lot more empty. And if you tell Vanora that, I'll deny that I ever said it."

"You have my word." Tristran was silent for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to word his question. "Bors, what is it like?"

"What?"

"Being a father, what is it like?"

"Are you asking my advice, Tristran?" asked Bors, who was momentarily too stunned to speak.

"Yes, I am."

Apparently, Bors seemed to find something rather humorous about this, because he began laughing. "Well, that's the first time you've ever done that." His laughter faded when he saw Tristran give him an annoyed expression. "Oh, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes, and it was difficult enough for me to ask without you making a joke out of it."

"Sorry, Tristran, but in all honesty, I've never known you to ask advice from anyone. In fact, if you don't mind my saying so, you've been acting in a way lately that I've never known you to do."

At this, Tristran smiled softly, obviously thinking of Anaria. "I have ever been responsible for anyone else, Bors. Before, I only had myself. I never admitted to myself just how lonely that life can be. Not that I have Anaria, everything in the world seems different, and the chances I'm getting I never would have been able to have." He turned to look at Bors and saw that he was looking at him oddly. Tristran cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed at having been so carried away by his feelings. "But," he said, decide ding it was time he got to the point, "I now find that I'm questioning my ability to handle those responsibilities."

"Tristran, your head over heels in love with her, which is more than many married people, can boast. You're a devoted and caring husband. What am I missing here?"

"The fact that this devoted husband doesn't know if he will be a capable and devoted father."

It was than that Bors understood the true nature of their conversation, "Oh, now I see. It's fatherhood you want my advice on, isn't it?"

Since Bors had more or less hit the mark, all Tristran could do was nod. "Why would you want my advice on that? You seem to have gotten used to the idea."

"I may have gotten used to the idea, but that doesn't mean that I…"

Tristran stopped, unsure of how to phrase his next question. Bors didn't try to hurry him. Not that he was sure of what Tristran wanted to say, he would allow as much time as he needed.

Finally, Tristran said, "All my life, the battlefield has been like a second home to be me, and it's been only recently that I've felt comfortable in a role that I never before experienced. What could I have to teach a child that would be worthwhile?"

"Well, that's a question, all right." said Bors, thoughtfully, "I can understand how you're been feeling. If it helps, you're not the first one to experience it."

"Really?"

"Of course, Tristran. What, you think you're the first person in the history of the world to experience uncertainty about bringing a new life into the world? Believe me, Tristran, every parent feels like this at some point. Even I do, sometimes. And why shouldn't they? This child that Anaria's going to have, I assume that you played a bit part in creating it. If the way you two slipped away from you own wedding celebration is any indication, you've been rather busy in your personal life. And you not only had a hand in creating it, you'll also be responsible for caring for it, sheltering it and loving it. You'll be the one who is shaping his or her future. The prospect alone is enough to scare anyone. Very few are even truly willing to attempt it."

"What I do, then? I've heard a lot about the responsibility. How can I make sure that the seeds I plant will even bear fruit?"

"You've just got to look inside yourself, Tristran. Take the time, and you may find you have much to offer. Your child, whether it be male or female, will never to look far for to find an example of courage and honor. They also will be able to find the value of loving and protecting those dearest to them, even if it means death."

Tristran stared at Bors in mild surprise. That was the closest thing to a compliment that he had ever received from Bors. "You think that, Bors?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it. And, even if I turn out to be wrong, at the very least, you'll be able to pass on your irritating habits unto them, though that may be greeted more as a curse than a blessing to the world."

Tristran was about to make an objection when Bors suddenly began laughing. Tristran realized that Bors had been joking. Tristran even managed a smile, even if the laugh was at his own expense.

When Bors was through laughing, he said, "I'm sure that you'll do fine, Tristran. The one piece of advice that I can off you is this: you can't think that you'll be taking on a burden when you have a child. You need to remember that it's a priceless gift. They will drive you insane sometimes, but ultimately, it will be worth it. You'll see."

Tristran was silent for a long time, processing the words that Bors had given him. "Something tells me," he said, at last, 'that this won't be the last time I come to you for advice."

"I'm always here." Said Bors. "This might be good for both s. I'll finally be able to hold you in debt for something should the need ever arise."

Tristran laughed. 'Don't aim that high, Bors. Your advice may be wise, but I doubt that it will ever save me from death."

"Oh, you never know, Tristran, you never know."

* * *

Hope that everyone enjoyed that. As always, read and review.

Next chapter: There are going to be some new faces at Camalann. Some of them pose a potential threat to Arthur's still young reign. There are some who are not at all happy with Arthur, and will go to any lengths to get rid of him. On the other hand, one new face will touch the heart of a certain knight in the most unexpected of ways.


	12. An Unexpected Entrance

Yes, I have returned. I had to put this story temporarily on hold for a few months, due to the fact that life sort of decided that it would be fun to put me through a whirlwind and I have been too busy to post as much as I would like. Plus, this is probably one of the most complicated stories that I have ever attempted, and I really want to make sure that all the pieces fit together. I kind of have an idea of where this story is going, so hopefully, in the future, updates will be a bit more regular. So, please forgive me and I hope that this chapter makes up for your wonderful patience.

Also, in this chapter, I introduce several new characters, especially one who is very different from any other that I have ever created. Be sure and tell me what you think.

An Unexpected Entrance:

A month would pass before anything happened to change the way of life at the wall. And that happening would come in the form of an arrival that no one had been expecting.

Marcus Trebonious was a Roman lord who Lancelot had visited at the very beginning of Arthur's reign. He had been one of the few Roman lords who had been relatively open to Arthur's taking over of the realm. He had sworn allegiance to Arthur at the first visit. Lancelot had not thought that he would be hearing from him again. However, one day in late spring, a messenger would arrive at the Wall who said that he had been sent by Marcus Trebonius to tell Arthur that his master was coming to see him. This announcement was greeted with slight surprise by Arthur. When the message was brought to him, he immediately told Lancelot of it. The two of them decided that it would be best if they were the first who should be meeting this new visitor when he arrived.

It was about an hour later when Marcus Trebonious came to Camalann. He came with a caravan of only a few carts, and his guard was only about twenty men. This was slightly strange, for the Roman lords had been notorious in times past for being creatures of display, who delighted in putting their wealth on show to exhibit their power. This arrival was almost trying not to draw attention to itself.

Marcus was a man of about forty-five, with angular, aristocratic features. His once jet black hair had become streaked with gray His eyes were also black, and bright as obsidian. He was an intelligent man, and at first glance there did not seem to be anything in his manner that would be potentially threatening. But for some reason, there was something about him that Lancelot immediately distrusted when the Roman lord for the first time in the Fortress Hall.

Marcus came into the Hall accompanied only by a man who could have only have been the head of his personal guard. Arthur and Lancelot met him on their own. The very moment that Marcus came into the Hall and saw Arthur, a great smile beamed across his face and he bowed low and respectfully. "Arthur Castus, it is a great honor to meet you in person, at last."

"Thank you, Lord Trebonious. I have heard something about you from Lancelot."

"I am sure that he has. Lancelot told me a great deal about you when he came to me a few months ago. I have since heard much about you from many different sources. I am delighted to hear that the transition of power has been going so smoothly."

Both Lancelot and Arthur looked at each other, both of them a little puzzled. The behavior of this Roman was completely uncharacteristic from what they had come to expect. He was all affability and seeming friendliness. There was nothing in his manner that suggested any sort of deception, but still, they had no idea what to make of him.

"I thank you. But, I feel somewhat at a loss as to understanding why you are here." said Arthur.

Marcus spread his arms as if the answer were obvious, "To see the man who is to be my king. No other motive. You must understand, Arthur. I am a man who must see something to believe it. I wanted to make sure that the man I am to pay homage too would be the right one."

"And yet you swore allegiance to him when I came to you two months ago." said Lancelot.

Other Romans would have looked at Lancelot with distinct disapproval for being interrupted, but Marcus merely smiled at Lancelot, as though the knight had said exactly what he had hoped he would, "So, I did. But, the report you give me was convincing enough for me to do so than. It merely strengthened my resolve to come and see this great king for myself."

"Than why did you come sooner?" pressed Lancelot, ignoring the disapproving glances that Arthur was giving him.

"Merely for the fact that my state of affairs on my land wouldn't allow me to leave. This was the first chance that I had to come here."

"And yet, you come with no ceremony, no advance word?"

"Why should I? Are not the gates of Camalann open to all those who come with honorable intentions?"

"And are you coming with honorable intentions?"

"Lancelot." said Arthur, sharply.

"It's quite all right, Arthur. I suppose that he has good reason to suspect me, as I am sure that you do as well. The only thing that I ask is that I be allowed to stay here for a few weeks to prove whether Lancelot's word were true, and to prove _my_ loyalty to _you_ at the same time."

Arthur merely stared at the Roman impassively for a few moments, than said, "You're welcome to Camalann. Find the head of the Wall Guard, Jols, and he will show you and your entourage to your rooms."

Marcus Trebonius bowed and said respectfully, "Already you confirm what Lancelot has said."

As soon as everyone had gone, Arthur noticed that Lancelot was still staring darkly after the way that Marcus had gone. "Lancelot," he said to his old friend, "what is it that you object to about this situation?"

"What makes you think that I object to something?"

"Because I have known you for over fifteen years and I know when you disapprove of my actions."

Lancelot sighed and said, "With all due respect, Arthur, I must question the wisdom of the choice you have just made. We know nothing about this lord. How can we know if he isn't here on ill intent?"

"Didn't he swear allegiance when you saw him?"

"Yes, but I'm sure that we can both say that there is a distinct difference between words and actions. Men may say one thing and mean to break their word as soon as some seemingly better offer comes along. I fear that this may be one of them."

"Are you speaking this merely out of your prejudice against the Romans, or some deeper suspicion?"

Lancelot tried to object, but Arthur knew him to well to believe any excuse that he might have made. "I don't know, perhaps both. I don't understand why he should need so many guards with him if he just came for a 'visit.' All I'm saying, Arthur, is that I don't trust him, and I don't think you should either."

Arthur was silent for a moment as though processing this statement, and than said, "I have to tell you, Lancelot, that I don't trust him either. There is something very odd about him showing up here unannounced, especially since you know how much Romans love ceremony. I would have expected any other Roman to send word, so that a proper reception could be prepared for him ahead of time. And when he arrived, I would have expected him to come with all the pomp that he had at his command. Instead he comes almost plainly. But, I can't just throw him out the gates, not until he proves whether or not he can be trusted."

Lancelot nodded, though it seemed with great reluctance that he agreed to Arthur's wisdom, "That may be for the best, Arthur, but I still don't like it."

"Neither do I, Lancelot. But we must at least appear to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Until we know for certain whether or not he is friend or foe," said Lancelot, "than I will not be able to show him even half as much as that."

* * *

A few days later, it was once more market day at Camalann. Anaria was once more looking for things to trade and buy. She was not looking for anything in particular, but any interest in searching the stalls for wares would soon be utterly usurped when her attention was drawn by a sight that was altogether unexpected.

It was, admittedly a sight that not many people would have paid much attention too. About ten yards away from where she was standing, a woman was looking at a stand where a variety of clothes were on display. This sight ordinarily wouldn't have sparked her interest, but this was obviously a special case. This woman was on the turning tide of girlhood and womanhood, for she couldn't accurately be called either. She looked to be in her early twenties, and yet her face bore all the innocence of a young girl. Still, Anaria got the idea that she was wise for her age. She was very beautiful, as well, she had a well-sculpted face framed by raven black hair, which curled and flowed like a restless ocean down her back. Her eyes, which Anaria only caught a glimpse of, were yet very striking. They were as blue as a summer sky,

Now, Anaria knew most of the people who lived in Camalann. It was a small town and she had a good eye for faces. She knew that this woman, whoever she was, a stranger, and for some reason, she found that it was a stranger that she was curious about. For no particular reason that she could think of, she wanted to see if she could find out anything more about this mysterious woman. Why should such an aura of wisdom beyond her years cling to one that seemed so young?

Despite herself, she found herself drawing closer to the younger woman, following behind her a few feet. She wanted to try and see what else she could find out about her. She tried to be surreptitious about it, but as it turned out, she was not surreptitious enough.

She was less than three feet away when the woman turned to her and said, "Why are you staring at me?"

The question was asked with such frankness and yet with no hint of malice of suspicion that Anaria was taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"I asked why you were staring at me?" And once the question was repeated, she merely stood there and waited for an answer.

Anaria had quite honestly not expected to be confronted in such a manner. She had not gotten an indication that the woman had known she was even there. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond, and when she did respond, it was rather haltingly, "I... well, I really didn't..." Stopping, she realized that the woman was actually smiling at her in shyly enduring way. In the face of such an expression, Anaria could only smile herself, "I'm explaining myself rather badly, aren't I?"

"Yes, but its amusing hearing you try."

"In that case, I suppose that I have been found out haven't I must confess myself to be rather embarrassed. I don't really know how to extract myself from this situation."

"Well, we could always introduce ourselves." said the young woman, "It seems the only right thing to do, isn't it? You were obviously curious about me and it would be unfriendly of me to turn you away empty-handed."

Again the frank innocence of her words surprised Anaria. This, woman, whoever she was, obviously had some education, if not an extremely bright mind. "You know nothing about me. How can you mean that seriously?"

"I know nothing about you, yet. How will I ever know more until I know you?"

The more Anaria heard from her, the more she was coming to like this woman, "Your logic is undeniable. Well, since you have expressed at least some interest, my name is Anaria."

"Anaria," the woman repeated, "I know that name. You're the healer, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I am. I didn't expect for anyone to recognize my name beyond Camalann."

"And it was here that I heard it." replied the young woman, "Do you know how the people here talk about you? They claim you can work miracles; they respect you a great deal."

Anaria was frankly unaware how to respond to such high praise from a person who was almost a complete stranger, "Thank you, I suppose. I had no idea that my name was held in such high regard. I certainly hadn't expected to hear it from someone like you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sudden fear appearing on her face, making her seem more like a young girl than a woman at that moment, "I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that I-"

"No, please don't think that." said Anaria, soothingly, "It's just that I don't even know your name and you already know something about me, it just caught me off guard."

The young woman smiled shyly, "It is my way. I have been told by many that though God took my sight from me, he gave me sight to see the heart of a person, which is both a blessing and a curse."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Anaria.

The young woman laughed as though it were an obvious thing, "Have you not understood? I'm blind."

Anaria, despite herself, stared at her in open-mouthed shock. The woman continued, "You are surprised, I know. Don't worry; it's quite common for others to think that I can see. I have learned to overcome it, and most often people don't know that I'm blind until I tell them. But, I am forgetting myself. You have told me your name; I have yet to tell you mine. I'm Miranda. I'm staying here with my uncle."

"Your uncle?" questioned Anaria.

"Yes, my uncle, Marcus Trebonius. He's been here for three days. I was sure that everyone at Camalann would have known by now."

"Yes, yes, I know about it, but I didn't know that he had any family with him."

And though Anaria didn't say it, she was surprised that the family in question should be a niece, since Roman women were very often kept to the house by their "lords." Daughters, wives, sisters, it mattered not; they were women and therefore either thought to be delicate and fragile, or loose and without morals, either choice gave men the excuse they were looking for to shut them up for their own "protection" or, more likely than not, "punishment." The end result was the same for many women, who became undeserving prisoners in their own homes and very often gave way to despair and hopelessness.

"I suppose that you're surprised that if he should have brought any family, he should have brought me." said Miranda, guessing why Anaria had suddenly gone so quiet. "It is unprecedented, I admit, but my uncle I don't think wanted to leave me on his estate alone. He was afraid that I would come to harm in his absence."

"Oh, I see." Another awkward moment of silence followed this statement. There seemed to be no more to say, but for some reason, Anaria didn't want to go, she wanted to get to know Miranda. True, she had no real reason too, but when a potential friendship is discovered, it must not be ignored. She had learned not to ignore it.

Finally, Miranda broke the silence, "I really should be going. I didn't tell Marcus where I was going and he is no doubt worried about me." She looked around her, as if seeking for the right direction to go, "The only problem is, I think I have gotten a bit lost. My own fault, I suppose, for not going out without a guide."

"Let me help you." said Anaria, seizing on the opportunity, "I can show you the way back."

Miranda, in turn, gave her that shy smile, "Really? You'd be willing to help someone that you didn't know fifteen minutes ago?"

"The more time we spend together, the longer I will know you." said Anaria, who could only smile in response to Miranda's question, "In any case, I don't think that we can hardly say we are strangers now, can we?"

Miranda, still smiling shyly, shook her head. As Anaria began to walk, she reached and put a hand on hers shoulder lightly. Once again Anaria was filled with amazement. As Miranda had said, fifteen minutes ago, they hadn't known each other, and now Miranda was trusting her. Had it been any other person, they might have exploited Miranda's blindness and used to play a hurtful prank on her. Anaria felt a strange privilege in Miranda's trust and it would be almost from that moment on that she resolved to take care of her.

Soon, they arrived at the Fortress Hall of Camalann. There had been some complaints (not by Marcus, but by many others), that the rooms were not luxurious enough. Of course, most of these complaints were ignored, for, in the general scheme of things, there were more important things to consider.

Anaria let Miranda go at the door. "Can you find your way back to your rooms from here?" she asked.

"Yes," said Miranda, "once I know the general layout of a place, I can get around without too much trouble."

"Well, if you ever need anything let me know."

"I'm not sure if there will be much chance for me to do that. My uncle has not said when we will be leaving, but I don't think that he intends to stay long. Which is a disappointment for me. I had hoped to get to know this city better, and I..." she paused and looked down, seemingly embarrassed.

"And you what?"

"You will not think me, impertinent?"

"Believe me, Miranda; nothing that you say can offend me. I have to put up with many more unpleasant things in life."

"Honestly, I had hoped to get to talk to you a little more, too."

"As did I, Miranda." than a sudden idea occurred to her, "You could always go to the tavern with me."

"The tavern?" said Miranda, who, quite understandably, seemed a bit wary of such a place.

"It's not like a normal tavern. Actually, since the Roman soldiers have left, the place has been quite pleasant, more like a communal gathering place. We could get to know each other more and you would get to meet some of the knights."

"Well, maybe I could." said Miranda, "But I cannot promise anything. My uncle watches my every move like a hawk."

"Than you must find a way to avoid his gaze, if only for awhile. And don't worry, if anyone lays a hand on you, I'll just cut it off. Just try. I will wait for you."

"I will think about it." said Miranda, "Good bye, Anaria, and thank you for everything."

With that, Miranda exited into the Fortress, leaving Anaria without, and with something to look forward too in the evening to come.

* * *

It was a few nights later that Lancelot was walking the streets of Camalann. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings since he was more deeply in thought than usual. It had been nearly a week since Marcus had appeared at the wall, and there had been no sign in his behavior that he was harboring a hidden agenda. In fact, he had been the perfect guest. but Lancelot could still not bring himself to trust him; indeed he had tried to avoid the Roman lord as much as he could, because he feared that if he was drawn into a conversation with Marcus, he would say something that would come back to haunt him later. Tonight, he was trying to understand just why he was so distrustful of Marcus' presence, and why he would be so relieved when the Roman lord was finally gone.

But, of course, sometimes thinking over and over about a problem yields very little in the way of results. You can end up thinking yourself into circles and tying your mind up in knots. And since Lancelot had been brooding nonstop for many days on this one thing, you can imagine what state he was finding himself in. \Sometimes, you have to become focused on something else, to find what is truly important. And in Lancelot's case. Little did he know just how much this night would change his life forever.

He had just come out of the Fortress Hall, and was walking along the street, when he began to hear a noise, several noises that struck him as not being quite right. He slowed his pace and carefully approached the far corner of the street. Peering around the corner into an alley that ran alongside the Fortress Hall, he saw several dark shapes moving about in the shadows. Stepping into the alley, he approached the shapes carefully, he recognized them. It was Agrona, a member of the Wall Guard under the joint command of Jols and Ganis. With him were two others that Lancelot didn't know, who, he assumed were friends of Agrona. And than, there was the fourth person, a woman, unlike any Lancelot had ever seen. She had all the beauty and poise of a woman, and yet, with such an innocent face that Lancelot wondered if she knew how beautiful she was. But, there was little time for him to dwell upon that fact, for she was being bullied by Agrona and the two others.

First one would come up and push her from behind, when she whirled to face him, another would come up and jab her in the ribs while her back was turned. All the while, they were laughing and calling insults. This had obviously been going on for some time, and she was close to tears. Sudden anger gripped Lancelot, and he strode up behind thee group who were so absorbed in entertaining themselves on a defenseless woman that they had not yet noticed him.

One of them pushed her hard enough so that she fell heavily to the ground, "All right, that's enough." said Agrona, "Let's go before someone hears us."

"Agrona," said Lancelot from behind him, "someone already has."

All three men froze. Fear flashed across their faces and they turned to face Lancelot, who was staring at them, his eyes alight with angry disapproval, "Lancelot," stammered Agrona, "sir, we were just... that is to say, we were..."

"Yes, I know perfectly well what you were doing." snapped Lancelot, "Having a laugh at the expense of this young woman, who clearly can't fight against you. I would have expected that members of the Wall Guard, the very ones who are supposed to be setting an example against this kind of behavior, would indulge in it themselves."

"But, sir, it was just a joke."

"A joke?" repeated Lancelot, scathingly, "I have seen Roman guards do many things that were worse than what you have done to this young woman, and heard them laugh it off as a joke. It is a joke that only the people who have twisted minds laugh at, and I will not tolerate it within these walls, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." They all mumbled. They had been more or less humbled by Lancelot's harsh words, and there was no other response that they could make. No one argued with Lancelot when he was angry; that was a good way to acquire an early grave.

"You are all relieved of duty until further notice." said Lancelot, "In the meantime, you will have plenty of time to think about your actions, while cleaning out the stables for the next few weeks. You can be sure that I will be reporting this little incident to your commander, who will decide if there should be any further punishment. And if I hear about anymore harassments like this, you will answer personally to me."

Agrona and his friends wilted like dead flowers the more Lancelot spoke, and when he got to the part about "you will answer personally to me," they had turned white from fear, for it was no idle threat. It was than that they revealed that they were nothing more than cowardly bullies. When they didn't move, Lancelot said coldly, "Get out of here, before I decide to work you over here."

In the next second, Lancelot and the woman were left alone. She was still sitting on the ground and once they were alone, the woman softly said, "Thank you."

Her voice was as soft as velvet and as warm a summer sun. Lancelot's ears were captured by the sound. He found that he wanted to hear it again, and so he knelt down and helped her to her feet, "I'm sorry that you had to put up with the idiocies of some of the younger people around here. They re mostly harmless if you don't let them get in your way. Did they hurt you?"

She smiled at him softly, "No, I am quite all right. You have no need to apologize. It was not your actions that caused me grief. But, still thank you for helping me."

Lancelot, despite himself, was, for a moment, lost for words. No woman had ever before smiled at him like that. He was used to the flirtatious smiles and coquettish looks. This woman's eyes were filled with gratitude and genuine shyness. The look in her blue eyes, matched her face, in their wisdom and innocence. He cleared his throat awkwardly when he realized that he was staring. However, it was in staring that he realized he had never seen this woman in Camalann's walls before. "Forgive me, but, I don't think that we have met before. Who are you?"

"My name is Miranda."

"Your Miranda?" said Lancelot, trying not to sound surprised.

"You know my name."

"Anaria has spoken of you, very highly in fact. She tells us that she has been waiting for you every night to take you the tavern, but you have never shown up."

Miranda blushed, as though embarrassed by his words, "Well, as a matter of fact, I was just going there to meet her now. I have had not been able to get away until tonight. She did tell me where to meet her, but I got lost. I still don't know this place well. I ended up out here, when those men attacked me."

"Well, I think that Anaria may be at the tavern now. I was just going there myself. Let me show you the way. That way, you won't run into trouble again."

"I am not helpless; I can take care of myself."

Lancelot backed up a step, stunned by the sudden defensiveness in her voice, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. I've no doubt you can take care of yourself, but, well, this town is strange to you. You said it yourself; I was just trying to help."

Miranda sighed, "You are right, of course. I'm sorry for my words. It's just that so many people seem to think that because I am blind, I am helpless."

"You're not helpless, I can see that. But, it is sometimes a good idea to accept help, when you need it."

Miranda, once more smiled, and again, Lancelot found that his powers of speech had disappeared, "And, I suppose that I do need your help." Miranda put her hand lightly on Lancelot's arm, "Just start walking," she instructed, "I will follow."

"All right." said Lancelot, who wasn't sure what else to say.

However, before they began moving, she asked, "Wait. You didn't tell me your name?"

Lancelot gulped, as a flood of strange emotions began churning deep in the pit of his stomach. "Lancelot, my name is Lancelot."

* * *

Again, I hope that everyone enjoyed this. And enjoyed my OC Miranda. I don't think that I need to say what my plans are for her. Lancelot pretty much speaks for himself. I hope that you like her. And for everything else, read and review.

Next chapter: Miranda and Anaria begin to get aquainted, beginning what will turn out to be a very beautiful friendship.


	13. Getting Acquainted

Getting Acquainted:

Since the night hour was still early, there were not many people in the vicinity of the tavern when Lancelot and Miranda arrived there. Even the knights were nowhere to be seen as of yet; but Anaria was there. When she saw that Lancelot was leading Miranda, she was understandably suspicious. She didn't want Miranda to fall victim to Lancelot's charm.

When she walked over to them, there was a threatening light in her eyes that Lancelot actually found a little frightening. Anaria, when she was angry, could be a scary sight.

"What, may I ask, is going on here?" She asked, once she got to them.

"Now, Anaria, before you start hurling accusations at me, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"There had better be, Lancelot, if you value your life."

"Excuse me," said Miranda, who had most certainly heard the acid note in Anaria's voice, "but Lancelot is not in any way to blame. He helped me only a few minutes ago, when I was coming to meet you, I was attacked by some childish men. If it hadn't been for Lancelot, I wouldn't have been able to get away."

Anaria looked from Miranda to Lancelot, scrutinizing them both, "Well, all right, I believe you. See to it, Lancelot, that you're never the one that is to blame."

Lancelot knew enough to sense that it would be best if he left, "Well, I suppose I'll leave you two to get acquainted. If you'll excuse me."

He moved away from them, but he had gotten no more than few steps when he heard Miranda's soft voice calling him, "Thank you, Lancelot."

He turned to look back at her and saw that she was smiling in that charmingly innocent way. He opened his moth to speak, but found that any words choked and died before they got halfway out of his throat. "Y-you're welcome, Miranda." he said finally said, before he turned and hurried away, before Miranda effected him anymore than she already had.

Once he had gone, Anaria turned to Miranda, "I am glad you could come, Miranda."

"So, am I, Anaria. You shouldn't have been so hard on Lancelot, though. He didn't deserve such censure, and I wouldn't have been able to come at all if he hadn't shown up when he did."

"You're probably right, Miranda. But, I feel I must caution you. Lancelot is a charmer and a notorious ladies man. I wouldn't want you to be his victim."

"You make him sound like some sort of predator." said Miranda, "I didn't sense anything at all like that in him toward me."

"Don't get me wrong, Lancelot is a good man. He's one of the best fighters that Arthur has, and you could never ask for a more loyal friend once you gain his trust."

"And have you ever known him to take a woman against his will?" The way that the question was worded made Anaria pause. Miranda knew about the dangerous ways of men and the games that some played with the hearts of women. Not that she herself had probably experienced that personally, but no doubt she understood the hidden worry that Anaria had initially wanted to be left unsaid. Anaria had honestly wondered if she would have even picked up on it, but, now she saw that she was wrong. Miranda may have been young, but she wasn't a naive girl.

"No, I never have." She responded truthfully.

"And I am not willing. Lancelot was quite kind to me, and if he is as you say he is, than he will have known that from the start. I do thank you for your warning, but I assure you, that I can protect my heart when it comes to men. I may not know much, but I know enough to know the good from the bad, and what it is that I want. I'm not empty-headed enough to submit to flattery."

It was the longest speech that Anaria had yet from Miranda, and it forced her to see her in yet another completely different light. "You're right, Miranda. You obviously can take care of yourself. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry."

Miranda smiled softly, "That's all right. Please don't think anymore of it. I would hate to let this evening begin or continue in such a way."

"Well, than, I'll consider the matter settled. Come, I have someone that I would like you to meet."

And so started an evening that would be the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.

* * *

As dusk gave way to evening, the night life of Camalann began to come out. It was no big surprise that the knights were the first to arrive. Hot and worn out from a hard day of training, they were looking forward to an evening of drinking and enjoying the attention of any number of adoring women, of which there was still a great number.

Imagine their surprise when they saw that Anaria was there, deep in conversation with a woman that none of them recognized. And, since none of them had ever been very proficient at hiding their opinions, they naturally felt a need to point this out.

"Hey, Anaria," yelled Bors, when they got within earshot, "when Tristran's gone, you usually never show your face until he gets back. What's made you want to get out and about now?"

"She's been here for the past two nights, Bors," said Gawain, "your eyesight must be failing you if you didn't see her."

"Only tonight, there's a distinct difference." said Galahad, who was eying Miranda, (AN Hey, even they are better than the Romans, they're still not saints.) "Is that the reason you've been so present lately?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she is." said Vanora, who was walking by with a tray of drinks and had heard Galahad's last comment, "Her name is Miranda and I happen to be quite fond of her. And don't any of you start get any ideas into your heads. If you so much as lay a hand on her, I'll cut it off with a rusty knife, boil it and make you eat it."

The threat was delivered in such a serious way that Galahad actually took a step backward. Vanora roasted them all with a glare before passing on. Anaria laughed at the expressions on the knights' faces. "I don't think that she's kidding this time; I certainly won't be kidding either believe me." A glance at Miranda's revealed that she was slightly bewildered by what was happening and also seemed to be feeling a bit out of place, "Oh, excuse me, Miranda, these are the knights. A rather dull group, but they serve their purpose on this earth well enough."

"Look who's talking." said Bors, as the rest of the knights dispersed around the courtyard and lively music began playing. "If Tristran were here, you'd say we were brilliant."

"Correction, I would be saying that only one of you was brilliant and all the rest were average. You know what I would think of anyone else beside Tristran."

"I don't think I want to ask." replied Bors, "You're in one of your moods, I can tell." He turned to Miranda, "If ever you want to join us and retain some of your sanity, you're welcome to."

"Th-thank you." said Miranda, who seemed unsure of what to say.

Once they were alone again, Anaria said, "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. You're probably not used to this kind of atmosphere."

"It is rather different than my Uncle's estate," admitted Miranda, "But that doesn't mean that I don't like it. I sense happiness everywhere I go. It's in the music, the laughter. You seem to have so much to be thankful for here."

"Yes, we do. Camalann may be less grand and glorious than a Roman estate, but we live well here, with what we have. And well, we should. Everything we have here, we have earned, sometimes at a great price. The knights, most of all; I believe we owe them the most thanks, because they have sacrificed the most. They gave up their homeland for fifteen years, for a mission that wasn't their own and they couldn't see how it would end. They have seen their brother-in-arms fall, faced death themselves endless times, and all for this."

"Their fame spread all over the island when the Romans still had bases here." said Miranda, "I always used to listen with rapt attention to whatever new story came to my uncle's estate about them."

"They are somewhat different in person aren't they?"

"They are, well, not what I expected. But I somehow prefer it that way; it makes them more human in a way. What are they like? I want to be able to tell them apart."

"Well, the one with the deep voice is Bors, loud, crass, and blunt, but he has a heart of gold. He and Vanora have been lovers almost since the time he was posted here. They've had eleven children at last count but that number will probably only progress in the coming months. Than there's Gawain and Galahad. I speak of them together because you rarely find the on without the other. Gawain is the one who speaks in that gravelly voice. He has a noble bearing, fights like a lion in battle. A good man, rough and ready for anything. And as for Galahad, well, he's the one who tried to flirt with you."

Miranda smiled, "I wasn't offended by that, you know. Just taken aback; no one's ever spoken to me in that way before."

"There's nothing to fear from any of them. Galahad is the youngest of the group, the one who has the clearest idea of home, as well as the strongest desire to one day return there, when he feels that he will no longer be able to be of any use to Arthur. In the meantime, he has the shortest temper, speaks before he thinks and settles most things by throwing punches now and asking questions later. Strangely, though, he seems to have enough charm to get by quite well. Gawain and Galahad are practically like brothers and each seems to make up for that the other lacks."

"And the rest?"

"We now come to the silent ones of the group. They are the kinds that you rarely hear from, but when you do, you never forget their voices. Dagonet is like a giant, unmoving and unstoppable. He is deadly in battle, and yet, the gentlest person I know. He rescued a small boy a Roma prison four months ago, and has been raising him ever since. He has also recently married a woman named Fulcina. Their story is their own; you will have to ask for it. Suffice it to say, it is a remarkable. He is unflinchingly loyal to Arthur; nothing you could say or do could even remotely persuade him to leave his service. And than," Here she grew strangely quiet and her eyes took on a far-away look, she didn't even seem to be talking to Miranda, but rather was lost in her contemplation. "There is Tristran. He is one that almost defies all description. He has eyes that are dark and limitless as a summer night. He never says much; instead, he watches, observes. In battle, you know you've met your last, but if you're a friend, or even something more intimate," She shook her head, "it's something impossible to describe. Whenever I hear him speak, I listen too his every word. His voice is as powerful as thunder and yet as soft as the wind."

"And his is the voice that you cherish most?" asked Miranda, pointedly.

Anaria blinked and looked at Miranda, "Yes, even more so when he's not here, like now. How did you know I was married to him?"

"Merely the fact that you appeared to be in raptures when you spoke of him. Where is he?"

"The other fortresses along the wall have been requesting training for their own defensive forces. Most of the time, only members of the Wall Guard here are needed, but every so often a knight is requested. It was Tristran's turn. Call me foolish, but I miss him, even if he has only been gone six days."

"I don't think it's foolish at all. You must love him a great deal."

"Yes. We've been through a lot to get where we are now."

"I know that."

Anaria looked at Miranda, puzzled, "How can you?"

Miranda's eyes were looking unseeing down at Anaria's hand, which had not left her own since she had placed it there earlier. "You have experienced many dark things, Anaria. The love you and Tristran seem to be a legend in its own right. I cannot tell everything, but I hear enough to understand that what you have gone through would have been a certain death sentence for anyone else." Anaria opened her mouth to ask what Miranda was talking about, but Miranda held up a hand, "Don't ask me how I know, Anaria. I told you of the gift I had to see into a person's heart. That is the only way it can be described as. I can sense a little of the story in your hands."

"My hands?" asked Anaria, who was finding herself fascinated with what Miranda was saying.

"You can tell a lot about someone by their hands. Yours are scarred, and though they are beginning to fade, they will always be there. I know what these scars are form. I had them on my own face long ago. They can only come from exposure to a hot fire, over a very long period. There is roughness as well; your hands have not been strangers to the ways of the sword. And, yet, there is something more beneath that, gentleness and kindness, the hands that do the work of a healer. A healer and warrior in one, something I have never sensed before."

She raised her eyes and gazed at Anaria's face intently. "May I- But you'll think me impertinent if I should ask you. I hardly know you."

"Miranda, you seem to have found out more about me in two days than many others would have been able to find out in two years. What is that you want to ask me?"

"I want to see you." said Miranda, softly, "Not in the way that others would see you. I can only form a rough picture in my mind but it will be enough."

"Go ahead."

Slowly Miranda reached up and began tracing the contours of Anaria's face with her fingers. Her face had taken on a look of intense concentration, as she literally seemed to read the life of Anaria in her face. "Sorrow," she said at last, "unspeakable sorrow. You have wept tears of blood. You're early life, it was filled with loss and sadness, which only seemed to grow in intensity as the years went on. And of nearly all-consuming force grew in you. But, than," She paused as her fingers continued moving down the lines of Anaria's face, "a light dawned. You found happiness and joy, a love that engulfed every part of you and gave you the life that you had always dreamed of. And now you are finally living that life, in face the ultimate reward is already here."

Anaria had to smile, "You are amazingly accurate, Miranda. I don't think that there is anything I have to add that you haven't already been able to tell yourself."

"As I said, it is only a rough picture." said Miranda, as her hands fell away from Anaria's face, "You must have an incredible story to tell. I would like to hear it in detail sometime."

Before Anaria could say that she didn't mind telling it to her right now, she was stopped by Gawain's loud voice, and he sounded like he had been enjoying too much of the free-flowing alcohol that the tavern had to offer. "Well, look who's finally decided to grace us with his presence once more."

"Took you long enough, Tristran." said Bors, "We though you had decided to move down to that fort permanently. What happened, you get lost on the way back?"

And than she heard his voice, "You may laugh and joke, but if either of you had gone, you wouldn't have gotten back for a month. You would be surprised how hard it is to teach a group of men to shoot at a target that a novice should get easily. It's not as easy as you might think."

Anaria's reaction to hearing and Tristran was more or less on instinct. "Tristran." She cried happily as she left where she had been sitting and rushed to meet him, "Tristran, you're back!"

"Tristran laughed as he caught Anaria and hugged her tightly "Anaria," he said, "it's only been six days."

"You're speaking to me, remember?"

"True, and I probably shouldn't be scolding when I missed you just as much. And how are _we_?"

Anaria laughed as she placed her hand on her stomach, "_We_are just fine, Tristran."

"Good." He said. He then caught sight of Miranda, "It seems you've made a friend in my absence, Anaria. Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Yes. Miranda, this is my husband, Tristan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." said Miranda, "Anaria talks a great deal about you."

"Does she? I hope that she didn't bore you too much on the subject."

"Anaria is probably one of the least boring people I have ever met. She tends to make any topic fascinating."

"I see that you have been working your charms again, Anaria." said Tristran, as he kissed her affectionately on the head. "I respect your discernment, Miranda. What is more, I tend to go with my instincts while meeting new people. I think that I like you already."

Miranda smiled shyly. "Thank you, Tristran."

Just than, their conversation was interrupted by Bors, effectively ending the exchange, "Anaria, now that Tristran is back, do you think I can convince you to sing?"

"Bors, why do you always ask me to sing at the most inconvenient times?"

"I don't know, an impeccable sense of timing, I suppose. It's never stopped you from turning down an offer before, has it?"

"You can sing?" asked Miranda.

"I have some skill in it, yes."

"Some skill?" repeated Bors, incredulously, "Come on, Anaria, you sing wonderfully."

"I would love to hear you." said Miranda, "I'm no singer myself, but I love hearing someone who is talented."

"You're in for a treat, than." said Bors to Miranda, before turning back to Anaria, "Well, Anaria? You can't turn down the opportunity now, can you?"

"Well, all right. But I'm doing this for Miranda, not you?"

"Hey, whatever gets you up there."

Anaria rolled her eyes, deciding against making a smart remark. Soon, it wasn't long before all attention was focused on her.

**"We're walking in the air  
****We're floating in the moonlit sky  
****The people far below are  
****Sleeping as we fly."**

The melody rose and fell with the mysteriousness sweetness of Anaria's voice. It truly seemed as though she were walking upon the frozen air, sweeping and sighing as the wind through the trees. It was impossible for anyone to keep from imagining the story that the song was telling.

**"We're holding very tight  
****I'm riding in the midnight blue  
****And finding I can fly so high  
****Above with you."**

However, it would be Miranda that night who would feel the spell of Anaria's song most of all. She got to her feet and made her way to the very edge of the courtyard. Already, there was a change in her persona, the was she looked, the way she moved, graceful and fluid, moving and swaying back in forth to the rhythm of Anaria's singing.

**"All across the world  
****The villages go by like dreams  
****The rivers and the hills,  
****The forest and the streams."**

Miranda could hold herself back no longer. Without thinking, she stepped into the courtyard and began to dance. She didn't hear the murmur of surprise that ran through the crowd at her unexpected entrance, and she wasn't able to see Anaria's surprised look. She only heard and felt the music, it permeated her being, caused her to abandon who she was to its beat and rhythm.

**"Children gaze, open-mouthed  
****Taken by surprise  
****Nobody down below,  
****Believes their eyes."**

Miranda continued to weave, sway and move, at one with the music. It had come to the point where the crowd was listening to what Anaria was singing, but they were watching Miranda with an equal interest. They had never seen such a pure synthesis of singing and movement. The singing lent an aura of greater grace to the dance and the movement made the song even more beautiful. The two were truly inseparable.

**"We're surfing the sir  
****We're swimming in the frozen sky  
****We're drifting over  
****Icy mountains floating by."**

But, in the entire crowd, one stood apart from the others in his entrancement. Lancelot had been rather quiet all evening. He had been nursing only one glass of ale on his own, not diving right into the conversation with the other knights or flirting with the maids as was his usual custom. The knights let him be, and the maids, after a few failed attempts, also did so. Lancelot was obviously in one of his moods. It was best to just leave him alone until it passed him.

Little could any of them have perceived what Lancelot was really thinking. He had tried his best to ignore Miranda, with rather mixed results. However, when Miranda started dancing, he could no longer keep himself from staring at her. He watched with rapt attention, unable to tear his eyes away.

**"Suddenly swooping low  
****On an ocean deep  
****Rousing up a mighty monster  
****From his sleep."**

She moved with a grace and precision that Lancelot had never seen before. How she was able to avoid the obstacles in her path that any other person would have been able to avoid with the aid of sight, Lancelot was unable to say. He couldn't help but wonder if he would have been so moved by this if Miranda had been able to see. Is that why he couldn't tear his gaze away? There had never been a woman in his life who had been able to bewitch him so. He had only known for an evening, and yet she was becoming more and more unlike any woman he had ever met.

**"We're walking in the air  
****We're dancing in the midnight sky  
****And everyone who sees us  
****Greets us as we fly."**

As Anaria finished singing, Miranda spinning around on the last phrase, her hair and dress swirling around her, making the young woman seem as a fairy from the stories of old.

Immediate applause broke from the audience. Miranda, breathless from her exercise blushed at the attention, obviously never having been used to it.

"They like you already?" said Anaria, placing her hands on Miranda's shoulders, as the applause died down.

"They were applauding for you. I've never heard someone sing so beautifully."

"Miranda, at least half, if not more of the admiration was for you. I have never seen someone dance as you did tonight. Be fair to yourself, Miranda; tonight, you were the center of attention."

Miranda smiled shyly, and was about to reply when suddenly a harsh voice cut her off, "Miranda!"

Startled, Miranda turned, looking strangely guilt-stricken all at once. Curious at what could have prompted such a sudden change, Anaria looked beyond her and saw a man dressed in the uniform of a Roman commander. If Anaria would have had to come up with a word to describe him, the perfect one would have been angular. His cheeks, his chin and nose were all sharp-edged. There was no smoothness in his face to speak of. His mouth especially was drawn into a perfectly formed razor edge. The coldness in his eyes made Anaria instantly dislike him. All features combined seemed to point to only one thing: whoever this man was, he was hard and cruel, with no idea of what it meant to be lenient.

"Felix," said Miranda hurrying over to the man, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm the one who should be asking you that, Miranda." His voice was a reflection of his face, grating and harsh upon the ears. Anaria doubted he would have been able to soften it, even if he had wished too. "Your uncle is sick with worry and I find you here, the least unworthy place for you, talking with low lifes and commoners, displaying yourself in such an unladylike fashion. What will your uncle say when he finds out?"

"You won't tell him will you?" Pleaded Miranda, who seemed to have undergone a complete change of personality. Miranda had seemed to possess a quiet confidence from the very moment that Anaria had met her. Now, she was visibly weakened, frightened almost to the point that she dreaded saying the wrong thing, "No harm has been done."

"Harm could have been done to you in all kinds of ways. You know very well the kind of people who frequent places such as this."

"But-"

"And what you possessed you to leave the safety of your room in the first place? Wondering out in the streets of a strange place with the handicap you have could very well have killed you. And when you found yourself here, why didn't you leave at once?"

"Excuse me, if I may intrude." said Anaria, who didn't like seeing Miranda bullied in this manner.

"Keep out of this matter." snapped Felix, which was apparently the man's name. "It doesn't concern you. And if you are looking for a deal, you're going to have some other time."

Anaria bristled at such a casual insult, but managing to get control of her self, she said, "You mistake me, sir. Miranda came here tonight under my invitation, under my protection. I can assure you that no harm would have come to her, even if the "low lifes and commoners" that frequent such places were at all interested in harming her, which they aren't."

"You?" said Felix, who was now looking at Anaria with a mixture of contempt and disdain, "You led here to this, this den of immorality? I should have known that one such as you might lead her astray. But you Miranda," he said, turning back to her, "after all that you have been taught, shouldn't you have known better than to listen to a woman of loose morals?"

"Would you mind pointing out to me this woman of loose morals?" asked Anaria, coldly.

"Are you so blind to your sin that you need to be told what you are? Look in a mirror and you will see the woman I speak of you staring back at you."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you but I am just as honest a woman as Miranda is. And if you are the company that she has to deal with every day, it's a miracle that she has turned out as well as she has."

"How dare you ay such things to me!" shouted Felix, who had finally lost his temper, "What is your name? You can be sure that I will tell my master everything that has transpired tonight, and he will, no doubt, tell Arthur about it as well. You may very well be turned out of the fortress by the time tomorrow. Who are you?"

"My name is Anaria, and I am the healer of this town. If you're happened to be wounded during your stay here, than you'll see my face, and the "loose woman" you speak of will have your life in her hands."

This unexpected answer seemed to momentarily deflate Felix, but he wasn't wiling to let it go at that. He had been insulted (though the insult may have been deserved), and he was not ready to give up just yet, "Just because you're a healer doesn't exempt you from punishment."

"Punishment for what? Saving lives? If that's a crime than you might as well kill me now. However, if you did so, you would antagonize half the citizens of Camalann, and earn an enemy that you would never be able to get rid of until your death at his hands."

"Oh, really?" said Felix, who couldn't seem to let go of the notion that the woman he was speaking to was one who made her living warming the beds of men at night, "And who is your so-called champion? Show him to me and we will settle this here and now between us."

Anaria turned and pointed, "His name is Tristran, my husband, and one of the knights that sit on the Round Table."

Felix's' mouth dropped open. He stared at the man that Anaria had pointed out, who, though he hadn't moved from his place, was watching the proceedings with dangerous eyes. He certainly hadn't expected to be brought up against one of Arthur's knights, and while an able fighter himself, he would be a fool to try and defeat one of them.

Anaria continued, "And if you really want a fight, I can assure you that I will meet you blow for blow. Tristran would only want to finish what was left of you when I was done."

Felix looked first from Tristran's unwavering gaze to Anaria, and realized that he had lost. "Come, Miranda." he said, barely restraining his anger, "we are finished here."

He started to lead her away, but not before Miranda pulled his back and said, quickly, "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Anaria. I truly enjoyed it."

"You're welcome, Miranda." said Anaria, as Felix pulled her away and the two disappeared into the crowd.

Anaria returned to where Tristran was sitting, lost in thought at the scene which she had just witnessed. "Anaria," said her husband when she returned, "its not exactly smart pick fights, especially when the advantages are clearly all on one side."

"I thought you had more confidence on my abilities than that."

"I was referring to whatever his name is. You would have had him beaten before two seconds has passed."

"I doubt it would have taken me that short length of time. It might have if you had actually came over and helped me."

"I know when to stay out of things." said Tristran, "In this instance could tell that you had everything under control and you were even enjoying yourself to some extant. Either way, though, I've been gone for nearly a week. You're going to have to tell me how you two met."

Anaria smiled, "I would be only too happy to do so."

* * *

Hope that everyone is liking how this story is progressing. The song in this chapter is not mine, obviously. It belongs to Chloe Agnew of Celtic Woman fame. As always, read and review.

Next chapter: Not all is as it seems with Marcus. He is not at Camalann simply for a friendly visit. Also, we see more of the progression of Lancelot and Miranda's love story.


	14. Good Plots

Good Plots:

Marcus Trebonious was a man who didn't like taking his orders. At first glance, this may not have seemed like the case, for he had long been supposedly under the jurisdiction of the Roman government up until very recently. But while he was in Britain, it was easy to act like he was answered to nobody. He actually had left Rome many years before to avoid the law, and he had brought with him of servants and serfs, along with his five-year-old niece, Miranda, who had been his ward ever since her parents' tragic death. He was not a good man, by any means, but there was a part of him that did genuinely care for his niece, even if she frequently was only of secondary in the face of his larger interests.

But, a few months ago, it had seemed as if his idyllic days of being in control of his destiny were about to end. Rumors of a new king had reached his state. He had at first simply dismissed them as that, rumors. However, when the messenger, the knight Lancelot had come and told him the plain facts, he had been unable to deny the truth any longer. He had accepted the terms that Lancelot had laid out, but he had not yet put any of them in practice. Instead, he had waited a reasonable amount of time, planning his next move, which most certainly did not involve him being under the rule of another man, especially a man such as Arthur.

Marcus was no fool, however, he needed complete and total secrecy on his side, so he had projected a persona of perfect politeness and geniality to everyone, even to those rude knights, who had Arthur kept as his closest advisors. They had treated him with nothing but suspicion and veiled insults since the moment he had arrived. Even Arthur didn't seem to trust him fully just yet, which didn't exactly matter to Marcus. After all, he wouldn't be the one who would be wielding the knife.

As he stood now, nearly two weeks after coming here, looking out into the streets of Camalann, he felt a sense of empowerment unlike anything he had felt since leaving Rome. Once Arthur was out of the way, he would return to the old system of Roman rule, and he alone would be the one who commanded and others would obey. The glories of what Rome had once been would be reborn in a new and fantastic way, and he would be at its head. He would be the one that history remembered to have preserved the purity of Roman rule and saved the country from the ruin of Arthur and his pagan-Christian method of government which surely God condemned. Surely if things went on as they did, destruction would fall upon the country. But since Marcus had convinced himself that God was on his side, he had already decided that he would succeed.

A loud knocking on his chamber door brought an end to his musings and plannings for the future. "Enter." He called. The door opened and closed. Silence followed until he heard the voice of Felix. "My lord."

"Have you any news?"

"Only the same as before." said Felix, "Arthur never walks alone; there is always someone there to guard his back. And he always seems to be looking over his shoulder, almost as if he expects an attack from some quarter. He will not be easy to sneak up on."

"Sparrows can drive away eagles, despite the bird of preys' superior strength." Said Marcus, "In the same way Arthur can be caught off his guard. No man can watch forever, distraction for even a second is long enough, for it would take only that long to drive a blade between his ribs, keep watching, Felix, tell your men to do the same, and when the moment is right, don't hesitate to take it."

"Yes, my lord.' Replied Felix, bowing respectfully, "However, there might be other factors besides Arthur is our task is to meet with success."

"Don't pause there, Felix. You are my second-in-command and my most trusted advisor. If you feel that there are problems than please state them."

"I merely worry, my lord, of the knights that Arthur has for his council. They are Sarmations, and they are dangerous men. My men have watched them training, they are incredibly skilled, from sword-fighting to archery to hand to hand. They are experts, some of them the best I have ever seen. The stories about them may have been exaggerated to some extent, but I promise you, they have been inspired by fact."

Marcus listened to this in silence, a thoughtful expression on his face, before saying, "But it is possible, nonetheless?"

"It will be extremely difficult. But since we have God's approval on our side, I have no doubt that he will save us. I have no doubt that it is very possible?"

"Excellent." Said Marcus, "You have performed your duties well, Felix. There is only one thing more that I need you to do. If Arthur's knights insist on following him around, than we might as well put them to good use. Try to arrange it so that they were the ones responsible for taking the life of their beloved king. The people will believe anything as long as the story is good enough. Once they believe that the ones who were supposed to protect them are in actuality their greatest enemies, they shall cry out for justice. And we shall be free to do what we want with them. Can you do that Felix?"

"I shall do my best, my lord."

Marcus nodded. "Our best is all that any of us can do, Felix. Only in this case, see to it that your best yields the desired results."

Felix smiled. When it came to plots of cruelty and treacherouy, Felix was almost the equal of his master. "It will be done, my lord."

"Good." Said Marcus.

It seemed as though the conversation was at an end, at least, so Marcus thought. But Felix remained, looking all of sudden very nervous, "Was there something else, Felix?"

"Actually, yes. But I hesitate to ask it lest you should think me overstepping my position."

"Felix, you are my second-in-command. You're voice is nearly an equal to mine, and you should know by now that you have to speak in my presence."

"I have served you faithfully for nearly all of my life. I have carried your orders out without fail. And while seeing my efforts succeed to such a degree is reward enough, yet lately I have felt a need for something more."

"You are perfectly within your rights to ask for some sort of greater reward, Felix. What is it that you desire?"

Felix didn't answer right away, but when he did, he was almost unsure of himself. "A wife."

Marcus instantly knew what he meant, rather who. "Ah, Miranda."

"Yes, my lord."

Marcus was silent for a long moment and Felix wondered for a moment if he had indeed asked too much. But then Marcus smiled, he even began to laugh. "To tell the truth, Felix, there is nothing that I would like better for my ward. She could not ask for anyone better for her." He called to one of his soldiers who was standing guard outside the door. "Fetch Miranda here at once." The soldier bowed and left. Marcus turned to face Felix, who was looking rather shocked. "What's the matter, Felix? You're not against this blessing being granted so soon, are you?"

"Well, I… Yes, of course, I am. But, I… thought, well, you would have some objections. I know that I am not equal to Miranda in birth."

"But, you are very nearly the equal of me, and that is quite enough. Besides, there isn't another Roman on this island who is worthy of her. But let me be very clear on this, Felix, her hand comes with this stipulation: Kill Arthur and she is yours. Consider this an extra incentive to get it right."

Felix's eyes took on a gleam of utter cruelty. "Of course, my lord…"

There was a knock on the door. "Hide yourself." Commanded Marcus, who suspected that Miranda wouldn't be so keen on the idea of marriage to Felix and thought best that he shouldn't be seen just yet.

The soldier that Marcus had sent before came in, Miranda following him. "Leave us." Said Marcus to the soldier.

Once they were gone, Miranda asked, "What is it that you wanted, Uncle?"

"I just wanted to give you some excellent news. Felix has asked for your had in marriage." Miranda's eyes grew wide with shock and she stared at her uncle in disbelief. "And I have given him my consent."

"What?" said Miranda, "You're not serious, are you?"

"Why should I be otherwise?" questioned Marcus. "I am joyful at the prospect of seeing you finally taken care of."

"But why didn't you think to ask me before you did this?"

"Why should you be so against a blessing such as this?"

"A blessing? Marcus, I don't love him, I can hardly stand the sight of him. You have seen what he does to those who defy his commands. He is cruel, merciless. What he do to me if given half a chance?"

"You're judging him far too harshly. He has been loyal and true to me, even during the worst of times. And he has paid you considerable attention of late. He will be able to help you to live with your handicap."

"My blindness would only be a handicap if I allowed it to be, and I haven't."

And yet, Felix seems to be able to watch over you far better than you can. He told me that you were in the company of those who could have taken advantage of your delicate condition, in a tavern no less. That's the last place you should have been."

"I was perfectly fine." Said Miranda. "I was in good hands and besides that, I'm not a helpless child anymore. I am as free to move and live as you are and I refuse to let myself be coddled because of I cannot see as you can."

"Miranda, at least give it a chance. I want the best for you, and considering what you're condition is, you must judge it as a miracle that anyone is interested in you at all."

Miranda's eyes had begun glistening with unshed tears. But she turned away, refusing to let them be seen by her uncle. "I'm not some piece of land or an animal that you can trade and do with as you wish. I have my own life to live, and if that means living the rest of my life in a convent, then I'll do it rather than marry Felix."

"Miranda," Came her uncle's quiet voice behind her, "Don't forget who allowed you to have a life in the first place."

Miranda chocked back a sob. She had never thought that he would push that cloud he held over her head this far. And what could she say that would convince him that he had gone too far in what he now asked of her? Perhaps the worst part was that she didn't think that she had the strength to fight against him.

She found that she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him any longer. Without wasting any time to even ask if she could go, she hurried from the room.

Felix emerged from his hiding place, looking after Miranda with a look of disappointment. His feelings for her could have perhaps been thought genuine. He glanced back at Marcus, slightly puzzled as to why his overlord had a strange smile on his face. "That didn't go to well."

"No, but give her time. The idea will grow on her and she will eventually see the benefit of this match."

"But, how can you be sure? She seemed dead set against the idea."

Marcus' smile only widened. "Let's just say that I have a guarantee of making she that she will see what is best."

* * *

Lancelot hadn't been expecting to see Miranda again during the course of her visit. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted too, but judging from what that man Felix had said, he suspected that Marcus would be keeping a tighter hold upon her than ever. He hated the thought of it, though. Miranda didn't deserve to be shut up, despite the fact that she was blind. He hadn't at all liked the way that Felix had treated her. Lancelot suspected the man to be brutal. It may have seemed strange that Lancelot should care so much for someone he had only just met. But than, it must be understood that it sometimes takes only a single moment to make the biggest impression.

But whatever his thoughts on her might have been, he had thought that he could not hope of seeing her again. Imagine his surprise when he was walking through the courtyard of the fortress hall, he saw her pacing agitatedly back and forth in the gardens. A look of hopeless frustration and heartbreak was on her face, a look that seemed to speak straight to his heart and made him want to find out what was wrong, and, if at all possible, if there was anything he could do to help.

As he came towards her, she didn't even seem to hear him, so wrapped up was she in her own problems. In fact, it wasn't until he was almost right beside her, that she stopped (froze actually), and asked, tightly, "Who's there?"

"It's me." said Lancelot, trusting that she would remember his voice. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Miranda's shoulders visibly related and she turned to face him. "To be quite honest, Lancelot, I'm not. I've just been dealt a blow and I feel like my life is falling apart."

"Anything that you want to talk about?"

Miranda looked at him and smiled, her relief evident. "Yes, I do need someone to talk, too. Of course, if you have something more important to do-"

"Even if I did," said Lancelot, it wouldn't be able to stop me from listening to you."

Lancelot's earnest tone left no doubt in Miranda's mind. She, too, had been thinking about Lancelot a great deal. She had been grateful to him for his help the night she had been attacked, and the imprint of his character (one of a man who was good, honest and honorable), had left upon her an indelible mark. If he cared now to even wonder what was wrong, as he had cared when he had rescued her when she hadn't even known her name, than she knew he would listen to her now.

The two walked along the streets of Camalann, going inn particular direction, for they had no destination in mind. Miranda found in Lancelot a person who listened to her without trying to offer any advice. The idea that a man would not only listen to her, but accept her opinion was something of a foreign idea to her. She was not seed to having her voice truly heard. But Lancelot not only seemed to listen to her, as the conversation progressed, Miranda was surprised to find that he actually seemed to be on her side.

"Felix is a man who doesn't know who mercy is." She was saying to Lancelot, "He punishes those people who serve my uncle, sometimes for the most minor offenses. I have even known him to kill some of them. What's worse, if that at the times when he at his cruelest, he believes he's doing the most good?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's difficult to explain, but if you can imagine the kind of loyalty you have for Arthur, Felix is like that with my uncle. And Marcus trusts Felix's council. It's almost as if Marcus were the head and Felix the body. The body responds without question to whatever the head demands, while at the same time, the head would be nowhere without the workings of the body. They act sometimes as if they are one, and in this case, for my ill fortune, they seem to be in agreement about my future must be. Marriage with Felix, though, would be an absolute nightmare. I know that Marcus would not listen to anything I say, and will always take Felix's word over mine. Felix could do as he liked with me, and never fear any sort of reprisal."

"But surely you won't be long with it?"

"I have no choice." Said Miranda, softly, "My uncle feels that he has my best interests at heart, even if those best interests mean putting my away in some room where I can't hurt myself. He seems to think that just because I am blind, I am no more than a helpless babe. But, I can't refuse him. Besides, he's my guardian and I'm his ward. I am duty-bound to obey him."

"And what about the duty which you have to yourself?" asked Lancelot, unable to believe what he was hearing, "If your heart doesn't want this, than you have got to tell your uncle no."

"You don't understand, Lancelot. It's far more complicated than that. There is more to this situation than you are aware of."

"And what is that?"

Miranda grew suddenly quiet; her clear blue eyes took on a saddened far away look. "My parents were both killed in a fire in Rome when I was only three years old. That's how I lost my eyesight, from the flames, the smoke and the heat. My uncle took me in afterwards; provided for me, cared for me. I was never his daughter, but he saved me from a life of destitution and suffering. I owe him that much, and for most of my life, he has held that debt over me, using it as a reminder that if it weren't for him, I would most likely be dead."

"Well, if you have been living under his shadow so much, than show him how you feel." Said Lancelot, "He may have saved you life, but it is your own life and you and only you should have a say in how it's lived. If your uncle expects some sort of reward like this fro a good deed, than he doesn't know what a good deed is. Everything grows and moves on. Your uncle had got to accept that. And if he can't, that's his problem. You shouldn't have to suffer because he saved your life."

Miranda was listening to all of this, a troubled look on her face. "I don't know if I have the courage or the strength to defy him. I never have before, at least, not in something of this magnitude."

It became clear to Lancelot the enormity of Miranda's situation. Here she was, poised on the first threshold of experiencing her own independence, when she had never had an opportunity to do so. She was not like other women; she wouldn't dash headlong into the unknown like Anaria or Guinevere. She seemed to be more comfortable with normalcy, a safe haven within which she could live in her own quiet way. Now, she was torn between what she had always known and the prospect of all she could be and experience. Forced to make a choice between a necessary evil or a risky unknown.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I have faith in you Miranda. I can't explain it, but I know that you can do this, you have what you need, if you just reach deep enough within yourself."

Miranda smiled at Lancelot. "I don't know whether to be unsettled in this moment or grateful."

Lancelot hadn't been expecting this. "What do you mean?"

"You seem to have spoken just now as if you knew me better than I know myself."

Lancelot suddenly very awkward, as if he had said the wrong thing. "I-I'm sorry if I said anything to offend you."

"No, Lancelot, don't be. I do believe that, however hard it may be for me, you said exactly what I needed to hear." She paused, and then said, "But I still don't know if I have the courage to say what I will have too at some point."

"As I said, Miranda, look inside yourself. Give it some time. You'll find that what I've been saying is true. You have the right to your own life. And it is time for your uncle to see that."

Miranda seemed to consider this deeply, before she said, "Thank you, Lancelot; you have given me a lot to think about. I confess, I don't know what I'm going to do, but you give me a sense of direction which I believe I needed most of all."

"I'm glad that I could be of some service to you." Said Lancelot, who could only hope that Miranda would learn and find the courage to discover who she really was.

* * *

I hope that everyone likes the way that this story is going. As always, please read and review.

Next chapter: Marcus' true nature is revealed when an assassination attempt is staged against Arthur's life. And in the next few chapters, we will see that a deeper, far graver threat is looming over Arthur's reign than a simple ambitious Roman.


	15. Revealing Secrets

Revealing Secrets:

Fog clung low to the ground, as the next morning's sun rose, turning the mist a dull gold. It was in the half light between dawn and morning that Arthur, Gawain and Lancelot left the gates of Camalann. The threat of a large scale enemy attack was for a minute possibility. But Arthur knew that it was foolish to tempt fate. He made a point of inspecting The Wall's defenses at least once every month. He also knew that it helped to have an extra set of eyes, which was why he had brought along Lancelot and Gawain. Little did they knew that they had been followed and that many secrets were about to be revealed.

It didn't take long for all of them to begin to sense that they were not alone, but it was Gawain, who happened to glance behind him at an opportune moment that confirmed it. "Arthur," he said, softly, placing a hind on Arthur's shoulder to stop him and he gestured behind him.

Both Arthur and Lancelot stopped and looked behind them, and they saw the outline of two men in the morning mist, still indistinct, but definitely coming closer. They were obviously following them and hadn't wanted to be seen. The three men began to slowly scan the area around them, and through the swiftly clearing mist they could see that those men behind them were not the only ones; in fact, there were three more and they weren't just following them; they were moving in for an ambush.

Arthur was immediately on the alert. He signaled for his knights to remain silent and still until he gave the word. Then, stepping forward, he said boldly, "Well, are you going to continue hiding and skulking in the shadows, waiting to stab us in the back as though you were common criminals, or will you face us as men and equals?"

Arthur's challenge caused all five of the men to halt and an uncertain pause seemed to keep them frozen for a moment. Then, the man directly in front of them came forward from the shadows of The Wall and they saw his face clearly for the first time.

"Felix." Said Arthur, "I should have known. Are you going to waste both of our times with excuses, or shall I merely state why you have crept up on us, armed in the early hours of dawn, when help may very well come too late?"

"We are both men of action, Arthur. Lies do not become us."

"So you have come here to kill me?"

The question didn't seem to faze Felix in the least. "That is correct."

This revelation did not seem to surprise Arthur in the least, but he looked almost disappointed. He had hoped that his suspicions about Marcus would prove o be groundless. Now, any hope of that idea was gone.

"My suspicions were correct." Said Lancelot, angrily, "Your master never came here to swear his allegiance. You intended to kill him all along."

"Nothing personal against you, Arthur, but it is your ideals that are in question."

"My ideals?" questioned Arthur.

"The ideals that are in danger of throwing this island into disarray."

"It's those same ideals that are bringing this island back together." said Arthur, icily, "Unity and prosperity are returning to this island, and it won't last if your master takes over the rule."

"The effects of time will show to be wrong, Arthur. Roman rule is the only way and you still have enemies. If it had not been my master, it would have been someone who had no idea how to take over with any concept of order. You can die in peace knowing that your place is taken by one who will know how to take over your place with as much skill as you. He might even be able to be a king better than you."

"You cannot possibly expect me to believe that." said Arthur, his green eyes, normally so gentle and kind, were not grim and serious, revealing the warrior that was always lurking beneath the surface.

Felix shook his head. "I should have expected you would not see reason. I have my orders, now I have to carry them out." he turned to his men, "Take them."

The soldiers, some of them looking as if they were going to enjoy what was to come, spread out and surrounded Arthur, Lancelot and Gawain. "You can't expect us to go out with a fight." Commented Gawain, dangerously.

"Try and fight." Said Felix, "You are hopelessly outnumbered."

"Are we?" said Gawain, "We shall see."

Suddenly, faster than the eye could blink, he turned and delivered a devastating blow to a soldier who had been trying to sneak up Gawain's blind side. Had Gawain known he was there? No, but if the fight had begun had at any time, he had suspected that it would come from behind.

That one blow seemed to be as good an opening as any. The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of an all and out melee in the streets on Camalann. Arthur, Lancelot and Gawain were outnumbered and even if they had more attuned skills than the average person, yet they were only human. With the numbers that they were fighting against, they were unable to be constantly watching out for attacks from unexpected quarters.

Felix had tried to stay in the background of the main, searching for his opportune moment to assassinate Arthur. The knife was in his hand, inevitably, the perfect moment presented itself. With Arthur fighting furiously with three of the soldier and the other two knights with enemies of their own to distract them, there was no one to stop him. He did not hesitate. If this was the only way for him to achieve Miranda, then he would do it. He loved her enough to kill for her. Te knife raised, he began to make his way to Arthur's unprotected back. Arthur, who had literally had his hands full, was unaware of the danger until the very last possible second. And even then, it wasn't his own senses that warned him, it was a voice that seemed to come from no particular direction, but one that would ultimately save his life.

"No!"

Arthur turned, just in time to see Felix, his knife upraised with the sole objective of driving into his unprotected back, when he was suddenly knocked to the side by none other then Rudyard, who had appeared out of nowhere and tackled Felix bodily in order to save his life.

Rudyard and Felix rolled sideways for several, exchanging blows when they could. Finally, Rudyard managed to throw Felix off of him. Felix landed heavily, but he was quick to recover. But Rudyard was already on his feet; his long years of fighting gorilla style in the forests of Britain had made him quick and skillful when it came to fighting in tight spaces. Compressed as he was with the Wall one side and the melees going on around him, there was not much room for him to maneuver. But that gave him the advantage and seriously impeded his opponent who was not used to skirmishes such as this and was not sure of what to do.

Nonetheless, Felix was a dangerous man to go up against, for he still had it in his mind that he could succeed, if only given the slightest chance. He was fighting for what he believed was his ultimate purpose, as well as for the woman that he intended to marry. Such motivation as this meant that he was determined to go to any lengths necessary in order to meet those goals. Rudyard knew that he had to be faster, or he would be dead.

The two began to fight one on one against each other, their knives slashing and parrying, trying to find their targets in the flesh of their opponents. Felix may not have been as adept with a knife as he was with a sword, but he still knew how to make the most use of it. He feinted to Rudyard's lower right, seeming to aim for his leg, and when Rudyard fell for the bait, he sliced upward violently, leaving a deep wound along a deep gash along his shoulder. Rudyard cried in pain, but rallied himself and kept on advancing to his enemy, who seemed surprised by the fact that Rudyard had not allowed the pain to hinder him. That was perhaps where Felix had made his fatal error; he had not taken into account that Woads were trained to not let pain interfere with the fight, indeed, the pain only served to heighten their strength and ferocity. They could keep fighting even after multiple wounds had been inflicted, only stopping when blood loss made them to weak to continue.

Thus, Rudyard was not to be stopped by a mere wound to the shoulder and he was still as intent on Felix's weaknesses as ever. Thus when he saw an opening, he did not hesitate to take it. When Felix came at him with an overhead blow, he docked it, and then while Felix was still recovering from the quick move, Rudyard drove the blade into Felix's side. Felix uttered not a cry, dying before he even knew what had hit him.

By this time, the noise from the fight had awakened the people of the city. Citizens of Camalann began to emerge from their houses, the women trying to calm the children while they tried to understand what was going on themselves. Several of the men began to rush to the city gates to see what the meaning of the disturbance was and what they could do to help. However, when they arrived at the scene, even they were surprised by the sight which greeted them.

Arthur, Lancelot and Gawain had managed to gain the upper hand by this point. It was slightly easier when the soldier saw their brave leader fall. The fight was effectively knocked out of them and they quickly surrendered. By the time the citizens came to their aid, the three were in the process of restraining them. The situation was clear almost at once, and Arthur needed only to give a cursory explanation. The people were shocked that someone would have tried to assassinate Arthur within sight of Camalann. Readily, the members of the Wall Guard came forward and began to lead the offenders away.

Now that the danger had passed, Arthur came up to Rudyard, who was leaning against the Wall, beside the body of Felix. "Thank you, Rudyard. You may have saved my life."

Rudyard looked at him and smiled a little tightly. "It was nothing, sir, it was merely my duty." The smile suddenly turned to a grimace and he stumbled. It was only then that Arthur noticed the blood which was spreading across Rudyard's shoulder.

"Gawain," he called, "take Rudyard to the infirmary. Jols, find Anaria and tell her that her care is needed. Also, bring Tristran to me. We need to get the man who is responsible for this."

As his orders were carried out, Lancelot came up to Arthur and said, "I suppose that we don't have to speculate who is behind this."

"No, we don't even have to make an educated guess. Come Lancelot, it's time that we paid Marcus a little visit, and gave him a proper welcome."

**

* * *

**

Anaria wasn't expecting to have a patient that morning. In fact, she hadn't expected any excitement at all. She had gotten used to the slower pacing of life in peace. Indeed a part of her actually enjoyed it.

However, when she and Tristran had heard the sounds of the riot below them, she got her first clue that today would be anything but slow. The two of them had hurried down to the streets, to see what help they could be. Hey had been met half-way there by Jols. He hadn't been able to tell them much of what had occurred, only that Arthur had been attacked by some of Marcus' soldiers, and that Rudyard had been injured saving the life of his king. Arthur wanted Tristran to join him and Lancelot as they confronted Marcus and he had sent Rudyard to the sickbay with Gawain.

Knowing that they were undoubtedly expecting her, she hastened to the sickbay. There she found Rudyard, hunched over in pain, with a deep gash in his shoulder. She wasted no time in treating and seeing to his wound. Gawain stayed in the background, looking on but offering no sort of help. He knew that this was not his art.

She assessed Rudyard's wound, and after awhile she said, "It's nothing to serious, though if he had hit a few inches lower, you would have been in a lot more trouble. As it is, you should be fine with a few weeks rest." She began to wrap his wound in clean strips of cloth. "Didn't you tell him about the occupational risks of being a member of the Round Table?" she inquired behind her shoulder at Gawain, "Becoming a hero means that there is a greater chance of getting yourself killed."

"I cannot see that I did anything particularly heroic." Said Rudyard.

"How can you think that, Rudyard?" asked Anaria in astonishment, "You saved the life of the king?"

"I meant that I only would have done what any other decent person would have done. It is hardly anything special."

"I am afraid that you are wrong, Rudyard." Said Gawain, "There are many who would not have risked their lives in such a way, even those who were loyal. But I think that today, you earned the respect of more than one person, including mine."

Rudyard did seem to know how to respond to this. He seemed rather embarrassed by all the attention, however sincere it might have been. "That well may be, but I still don't want it to be blown out of proportion. I was doing the right thing, nothing more."

"Well, as you will think. But I do not know who else will be willing to let it go so lightly." said Anaria, as she finished treating him. "I see no reason to keep you here, but try to avoid any strenuous activity, such as heroism. At least until your shoulder is fully healed."

"Thank you, Anaria."

Jols suddenly came into the room. He looked like he had had little chance to rest since she and Tristran had run into him less then half-an-hour before. "Anaria," he said, "Arthur wants to see you, right away."

"I'm popular this morning, aren't I?" said Anaria, wryly as she got up to follow Jols.

As Jols led Anaria through the hallways of the barracks, he didn't tell her anything about where they were going. Only that Arthur had urgently requested her presence. However, Anaria guessed that judging by that mornings events, whatever it was, had to do with a certain Roman lord. She was right.

As soon as they came within sight of the room, Anaria could see that several of the knights were gathered around the doorway. Lancelot was the first to meet her. He said nothing more than, "Arthur's inside, along with Bors, and Tristran." He shook his head. "It's not a pretty sight."

"I didn't become a healer to avoid such sights, Lancelot." Anaria replied. She was fully prepared for whatever she was going to find in the room.

Entering the room, she saw indeed that it was not a pretty sight. Marcus Trebonious lay sprawled on the floor, face down, as if he had taken a bad fall. However, this fall had been no accident, that much Anaria could see right away.

"When did you find him like this?" she asked Arthur, as she went to the body and began to examine, taking note of the fact that it was still warm.

"No less than ten minutes ago." Replied Arthur, almost sorrowfully. "We came to arrest him, but apparently he already knew the outcome."

Anaria had been listening in silence, all the while working on the body. She noticed that something was clutched in Marcus' hand. Prying open his fist, she found a small vial, much like the ones that she kept in the infirmary that were filled with her herbs and medicines. But this potion was not meant to restore health, in fact, it was meant to do quite the opposite.

Anaria sniffed the remnants of what had been in the vial and blanched. "Poison," Was all she said, "fast acting and deadly by the smell of it."

"He killed himself?" said Lancelot, in disbelief.

"Yes. I must say, he had everything planned. He brought this with him in case he needed it, in case his plan to assassinate you failed."

"Coward." Spat Bors, in contempt, "Typical of the Romans, to plot this sort of thing and than not be enough of a man to face the consequences of his actions."

"Not necessarily a coward, Bors." Said Arthur, "But a man who would rather die than face dishonor. It's the belief of the Romans that capture is worse than death. And I must admit that he faced death without shrinking, even if it was his own."

"It's also rather ironic." Added Anaria, "Here he came to kill you, and yet he was enough of a realist to bring a backup in case it failed; a part of him actually thought that he wouldn't succeed. If he planned his failure so thoroughly, I shudder to think what would have happened had he been able to succeed."

"And, Arthur," said Tristran, who had remained quiet up until now, "it seems as though the ring leaders of this plot have been taken care of. The question is what do we do now?"

"Miranda will have to be told." Said Lancelot, after a moment, "He was her guardian and I do think that he treated her well, and she, at the very least, respected him."

"Yes." Said Arthur, "She has charge of her own destiny now. She should have a say in where she goes now."

"I can tell her." said Lancelot, now would be best, before she hears it from some other source that won't be so kind."

"Then go and tell her, Lancelot. Say it how you think best, but make it clear that she has no blame in this and that is more than welcome to stay for as long as need be."

""I will, Arthur." Said Lancelot.

Once he had gone, Tristran asked, "And the soldiers of Marcus?"

"Bring those who were involved in the ambush to the Fortress Hall, those that are still alive, that. As for the rest, tell them that I will meet them on the training field in one hour."

"What are you going to do with them, Arthur." Asked Bors.

"I haven't thought of that yet. I don't think that they were all in on this plot, and for those who weren't I might be able to make use of them."

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Hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. Read and review.

Next chapter: Miranda makes a choice to start a new life. And not all is as it is appears with Rudyard, and the danger has only started to Arthur's reign. Stay tuned as we meet a character from legend: the sister of Arthur, Morgan.


	16. The Course of Life

The Course of Life:

Life can very often deal us very strange situations. The attempted assassination on Arthur was one such situation. On the surface, it might have seemed at first a very one-sided issue; the Romans had come for the express purpose of killing Arthur, they had no redeemable qualities whatsoever and they all deserved to die. However, Arthur was wise enough to know that this was not always the case. And so he had chosen to give the remaining Romans who had come with Marcus an extra chance. As it turned out, among the two dozen or so guards that were left of Marcus' original contingent, almost none of them had suspected some sort of ulterior motive for their leaders' visit. With that established, Arthur then gave them the option of staying in Camalann and being integrated into the Wall Guard or to return to the estate of Marcus Trebonious to serve the new governor of that province that Arthur would appoint himself. In the end, the decision was an almost even split between the two choices.

As for those who had been in on the plot and served in the attack itself, Arthur did not pass a sentence of death, as they had expected and which would have happened under any other person. He, instead, allowed them to go free, with the strict warning that if they should ever try to take up arms against Arthur again, the penalty would be far more severe.

There were some among the knights who wondered why Arthur had handled it in the way he had. Arthur merely asked why make an enemy, when you create a friend instead? Soon, Arthur would be putting together a commission that would be going to Marcus' estate to begin to change things and let those who had still been serving in perpetual servitude were free at last.

There was one thing that had yet to be answered, and that was Miranda. She had shed tears for her uncle and had asked that he be given a respectable burial. However, beyond that, the real question that greeted her was what she did with herself now that her guardian was dead.

Surprisingly, the man who had been the greatest critic of Marcus was her strongest supporter. Lancelot, when he was not with her, was rarely in a place where she could not find him. He was attentive to her every need and went out of his way to make sure that she was comfortable. He couldn't say why he did it, but he did it, and he was rewarded with kind looks and genuine words of gratitude that meant much more to him than any monetary gain he could have gotten from such an activity.

The days passed. About two weeks after these events, at sunrise, Miranda was standing on the battlements of Camalann. She was thinking of all that had happened and in conference with God about how she should proceed. During these past two weeks she had been praying deeply that God would give her a sign, for she knew that such an event in her life could not simply pass by.

Now, the Almighty One had heard her prayer. And he had used the two weeks to shape her ultimate decision, without her even being aware of it. Such is his way, using the most unexpected and sometimes traumatic events to shape and bless us, in ways we cannot even begin to imagine.

As she stood there, she knew that he was coming by the tread of his footfalls upon the stone. She had come to know the sound of his walk over the past two weeks and it was a sound of comfort to her.

He stopped beside her and together they watched the sun, a great yellow ball rising from the eastern horizon. The sky was cloudless, an expanse of pale blue that stretched in an endless arc above them. At the very distant horizon, a pale gold rose up to shades of pink, which morphed so subtly with the sky's pale blue that it was hard to know where one ended and the next began.

At last, he spoke, "I didn't expect to find you up here."

"And yet, here I am. I come here nearly every day. This is my favorite time of day."

Lancelot had a hard tome trying to conceal his surprise. "Is it really? I wouldn't have thought that."

"Very few would perhaps. Do you wonder what it is that I could get from such a scene?"

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind." He admitted.

Miranda smiled, at the sound of Lancelot's awkwardness. "Listen Lancelot, what do you hear?"

Lancelot was taken aback by the question, but nonetheless, he did his best to obey. After listening for a long time, he said, "I'm afraid that I don't hear anything."

"Listen harder, Lancelot. Open yourself to this time and this place; try not to be so concerned with what will be coming even in the next moment."

"What do you hear?" Lancelot asked, "Perhaps if I have an idea, what to listen for, it will be easier for me to hear."

"Every person would hear something different. However, I can help you. I can hear the wind, singing low and sweet over the earth the wind of every season brings with it a different song. Summer is approaching, and the earth is coming alive with new growth. Birds are raising their families and are singing for the simple joys that God has bestowed on them. Even the sun is aware that a change of season is upon us, for it feels warmer upon my own skin. It will be a hot summer, that much I can gather." She turned to face Lancelot, looking at him without her eyes. "So, you see Lancelot, we have more senses than just the eyes, and we must use them all in equal proportion, if we are to make the full use of our gifts."

Lancelot just stared at Miranda, not having any idea how to respond. Miranda was truly a puzzle to him, in a good way, but a puzzle nonetheless. At times, she seemed more like a child than a woman. She could be frightened of offending someone, eager to please and be liked by everyone. At other times, she seemed like a woman, wise and maternal, far older than her years should have made her. But it was time like this, when she possessed both the innocent enjoyment of a girl and at the same time, the mature wisdom of a woman, that Lancelot was most fascinated by her. Yes, he had to admit that Miranda fascinated him, more than anyone he had ever met. She was blind, and yet was so gay and happy despite that handicap, which seemed no handicap to her at all, for she seemed better able to see than must people could with two perfectly good eyes.

So caught up was Lancelot in his thoughts, that all he could finally say was, "Well, put that way, I suppose that I still have much to learn."

"There is nothing wrong with that." said Miranda, "If we learned everything within the course of our lives, than the time we had would be very dull indeed."

"Have you made you decision yet?" asked Lancelot, after a moment of silence.

"I find myself torn between the choice that is offered to me." She paused, as if considering her words, before she admitted. "Well, maybe it is the fact that I am not so torn, as unsure how to make the request. All my life, everything has been provided for me, and instead of helping me, I think that it rather hindered me. It made me unable to think for myself, what it was that I had to do. You actually helped me to see the truth of that way of life. If I had had a chance to speak with my uncle, I would have rejected the marriage he arranged for me."

"He might have tried to force you, then."

"Yes, I hadn't thought that far ahead as to what I would do, but I thought of what you said, and you were right, it is my life to live and I should have some say I it. But now that I have the opportunity, I really don't know how to respond."

"Why cannot you return home?"

Miranda shook her head. "There is nothing left for me there." It may have been where I spent my childhood, but I never felt any real attachment to that place, or to anyone there. It was never a place that I called home. In fact, until I cam here, I never knew what a true home was."

Lancelot, though he didn't say it, was relieved that Miranda wouldn't be going back. He had secretly feared that she had already planned on returning he would never have seen her again. Now that he had heard it from her own mouth that she wasn't returning, he spoke without thinking, what he had secretly been hoping. "If you're not going back, why don't you stay here?"

Miranda looked at Lancelot. How could he have known that was exactly what she had been asking herself for the past two weeks. "Would I be welcome? After all, my uncle tried to kill Arthur."

"And Arthur knows that you had nothing to do with it. You would be welcome, I can promise you. Arthur and Guinevere have both extended their welcomes to you. The knights may not want to admit it, but I'm sure that they want you to stay, as well. And as for Anaria, she could use an apprentice in the infirmary. You've told me that you would like to learn the art of healing." He stopped, realizing that he was just babbling, avoiding what it was that he really wanted to say. "And, if it would at all influence your decision, I especially would like you to stay."

There did not seem to be anything more for him to say. So, he nodded, and he began to leave her once more to her contemplations. However, her soft voice stopped him. "Lancelot, than I will stay."

Lancelot turned around, seeing that she was smiling. The beauty that was so noticeable was now impossible to ignore. Unconsciously, he felt his heart begin to beat faster, from happiness and a strange sort of relief. "Than allow me to be the first, Miranda, to welcome you home."

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Read and review, please.

Next chapter: We get a sneak peek at the beginning of a new arc in the story. Not all is as it seems in Camalann. An unseen traitor lurks in the shadow of the Round Table and that spy works for an evil that will come to be a far greater threat than could have come from any Roman lord.


	17. Gathering Shadows

Gathering Shadows:

Night fell upon the region of Camalann. Clouds were covering the moon. The sky was as dark as pitch and no light shone down from the heavens to illuminate the earth. This might have caused some a distinct feeling of uneasiness. For the blackness, and silence of the night resembled a graveyard; but for others, it was the perfect night for a secret rendezvous.

As the entries patrolled the walls surrounding the town, a dark figure crept cautiously in the shadows of The Wall, dodging between patches of light faster then the eye could see. He moved slowly to avoid detection from any pair of observant eyes that could be watching him, and potentially raise the alarm. He knew what would happen to any person who was that unfortunate. He would have to kill them; his orders from her were explicit and she would be obeyed, or he would suffer the consequences.

He finally managed to slip out of the gates and stole along the outer perimeter of the Wall, until he came to the sheltered west corner that was only a few yards from the forest. He glanced furtively in every direction, making absolutely certain that there was no one who seen him, before he darted from the protective shadow of The Wall into the forest.

Once he was sure that he hadn't been followed or seen, only then did he dare allow himself to relax ever so slightly. He knew that in all probability, she would already be there. She had a way of appearing at exactly the right time. He had more than just a little experience dealing with this sort of thing.

Sure enough, he only had to wait a few seconds before he heard the voice emanating from the forest behind him. "Right on time, Rudyard. I have been waiting for you." Her voice was like a dagger cutting silk, beautiful and yet dangerous at the same time.

Rudyard turned and saw the shadow of the woman emerge from the trees. Though he could not see her face clearly, he did not need to, for he had seen it many times before. The face was a reflection of her voice, was dangerous and yet beautiful. Dark, brown hair pulled back tightly in a braid, accentuating a face at angular features, especially the mouth that was set in a hard, firm line. But her most noticeable feature would have been her eyes. They were her most threatening, and yet her most entrancing feature. They were grey, with a piercing quality that held threats or promises depending on what she felt like dispensing. Indeed, that was mostly threats. Around her was an air of absolute and deadly authority, which made even a hardened man like Rudyard follow her every word with obedience, knowing that any type of questions or faltering, would lead only to death.

She was silent for a moment and said, softly, "Were you followed?"

"No."

"Good. You continue to fulfill your duties well, for both of the leaders whom you follow. I have been hearing of your heroics."

"Have you?" asked Rudyard, feeling slightly nervous by the sarcastic tone in her voice, but he had expected it and he was prepared for it.

"I have. And even if I had not heard it from the loose-tongued peasants who seem to have nothing more to do with their lives but gossip and hero worship, I might have guessed it by your wound. I assume that you got it when you saved Arthur's life from the assassination attempt."

"I suppose that I don't have to inform of the recent events at Camalann during the past few weeks." Said Rudyard, almost dryly.

"Arthur's death would have made my plans easier to accomplish, Rudyard. Taking over from a Roman lord would have been far less trouble to accomplish. Now, Arthur has become even more a hero in the eyes of the people. I was almost ready to put my plan into action. Now I will have to wait longer. Things must be calm before I can make my move."

"Morgan," said Rudyard, using her name for the first time, "I was only doing what you would have wanted me to had you been there?"

"Really? Do explain your reasoning behind that statement."

"You have told me so many times how much you have longed to kill Arthur yourself, how it was the only way that you could have your revenge. His kingdom may have been yours, but you would not have been the one to take his life. It would make the victory hollow."

Morgan seemed to consider this, and Rudyard held his breath, knowing that if Morgan found any gap in his explanation, than he would be dead before he even knew what hit him. At last, Morgan said, "You have come to know my purpose in life all to well, Rudyard. You may be right and it is an explanation that I can accept. Just make sure that that is your only reason. I would hate to find out that you had any second thoughts about all that you have done for me over the years, and or that you had any divided loyalties."

"I can assure you, Morgan," Said Rudyard, "That is not the case." That was not entirely the truth. Rudyard had been asking himself the same question of why he had saved Arthur ever since he had done the deed. The thing was that there was still a part of him that had not wanted to see Arthur die. Morgan may have wanted to think that he hated Arthur as much she did, but he could not bring himself to feel that way. Ever since coming to serve on the Round Table, he had found that he was coming to respect Arthur more and more. A part of him was beginning to wonder if he was doing the right thing. He was beginning to remind himself more of just how much was at stake. It was the only way that he could keep going.

As it was, Morgan knew none of this. She was far to wrapped up in her own plans to notice the feelings of her spies. "As it is, we must work with the time that we have. I had hoped that we would not have to wait. I have waited too long for this." She glanced at Rudyard, and said in an almost conversational tone, though the edge of a knife could still be heard in her voice. "Do you know, Rudyard, that I attended the wedding of Arthur and Guinevere?"

Rudyard gaped at her in amazement. "No, I did not. I didn't see you there, at all. And I thought that I would have been able to recognize you."

"Oh, I was not in the actual celebration that would have been far too obvious. And besides, I doubt that I would have been able to be that close to Arthur without doing come violence on him. However, I did see him and his queen. I rode there and stood observing from a hill overlooking the scene for a good few hours. I was sickened by what I saw. All the citizens of the country, mingling and cavorting together like savages, and Arthur enjoying all the adulation that always should have been mine. Arthur is the reason why my life turned out the way that it did, and I will not rest until he has repaid from me. That is why I depend upon you, Rudyard, you are the reason that my plans have been able to advance this far. I thought that you paid me valuable service when you spied upon Merlin for me, but you have played an even greater role now that you serve on the Round Table. See to it that you continue to perform that task well."

"I will, Morgan. You can depend on me."

"Good, good." Morgan smiled, an expression that resembled a mad wolf bearing its fangs. "It would probably be best if we not meet for awhile. I do not want you attracting any sort of suspicion."

"If we don't meet, how will I know when it is the time that you want me to act?" questioned Rudyard.

"You will know, Rudyard, you will know." And with that last statement, Morgan turned and vanished into the shadows of the forest, leaving Rudyard alone, as if no one had even been there with him in the first place.

Under the darkness of night, a rendezvous had occurred, between a traitor and a dangerous new enemy with an old grudge against Arthur and all that he stood for. No one could have known that the shadows were gathering, and that the greatest battle for freedom was about to begin.

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Read and review.

Next chapter: The big arc of the story is coming up, as we go behind the legend to find the true story. A gruesome discovery of a violent murder will be only the first step in greatest battle of all.


	18. Threat

Threat:

_Time has a way of bringing to light all the secrets that the human heart tries to keep hidden. Many years can pass, with no word or knowledge of the guilt that is hidden. It can seem to be forgotten, and yet, something will always bring the most grievous and hurtful secrets to light. _

_And when someone knows the secrets of the past, someone who dwells upon those secrets endlessly, day and night, brooding upon them, a poison can begin to grow within the soul. This poison is known as hatred, and it is the most destructive of all human failings. The secrets of a dark past and the hatred of old grudges combined, can lead to terrible consequences, and it inevitably entangles the lives of many innocent others. _

_Whether or not Arthur knew it, there was such a secret in his family, a secret that his mother had never told him, for the dishonor that it would bring. Therefore, he had no way of knowing of the events which were to descend upon Camalann during that first summer of his reign. _

_However, someone did. Someone who had known all from the first, and had been waiting and plotting for years to have her revenge. _

_That summer was the hottest that anyone could remember at Camalann. Some jokingly said that some of the fires of hell must have escaped to bake the earth. They could not have known that soon, that jest would begin to take on literal meaning. _

_A threat unseen was approaching Camalann, and it would be the greatest challenge that Arthur or any that followed him had ever experienced. It would lead to the questioning of loyalties. New enemies will be revealed in seeming allies, and old grudges would fuel a new war for freedom._

It was a few hours after sun rise, and already one could tell that it was going to be a hot day. Most were restricting themselves to indoor activities. However, there were some who were willing to bear with the heat, in order to reap the greater rewards of knowledge and learning.

Ever since she had chosen to remain at Camalann, Miranda had come to be something of a regular feature. Indeed, there were some who wondered how they ever could have done without her, Anaria especially. She had not known how bogged down she could become in the everyday affairs of running the infirmary, what with the steady stream of cuts, broken limbs and illnesses that kept her so busy. Having someone to share the workload with had proven to be a blessing. And even if Miranda was blind, she was entirely capable. She had learned swiftly and Anaria thought that it was time she took her young pupil beyond the infirmary walls and into the open air.

Today, Anaria and Miranda were going to gather herbs and medicinal plants in the woods surrounding Camalann. And in addition, Anaria was also going to teach Miranda some of the basic elements of riding. There might be some things that Anaria might never be able to do completely on her own, but with the proper care and attention of someone who understood her need for independence, there was no reason why Miranda could not ride. Anaria had seen that just because she was blind, Miranda had no desire to be cooped up all day. And it was a trait that she fully intended to foster.

The two came into the stables and Miranda was instantly captivated by the smells that immediately came to her from all directions. She had to stop to take them all in. Anaria turned and looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just… it's like nothing that I've ever experienced, not like this. My uncle never allowed me in his stables, or anywhere near the horses. He said that I would get hurt."

"You don't have to be blind to be hurt by horses. I've known several people who could see perfectly well who were nearly killed by horses, and it was always the humans fault. Horses know when they are being handled rightly, and when they don't, there is only so much of stupidity from humans that they will take. Show a horse you are not a threat from the start and you will have a friend for life."

"Really?"

"Of course, here let me show you." Anaria led Miranda over to one of the stalls, where a mare named Britca was standing calmly and watching them. "Good morning, Britca." Said Anaria, soothingly, as she gently patted the cream colored mare on the nose. She turned to Miranda, who was standing a few steps away, looking a little unsure. "Come closer, Miranda, she won't bite you."

Miranda came forward hesitantly. She could hear Miranda speaking to the horse in a low, calm voice. "Britca, this is Miranda. She's going to be riding you today. It's the first time she's ever done it, so be easy on her." She looked at Miranda. "Go on, pet her."

Tentatively, Miranda raised her hand and guided it Britca's muzzle. "That's it," said Anaria, encouragingly, "nice and easy. Let her get acquainted with you and your scent. Talk to her, it will help her to know that you don't intend to harm her."

"But she can't understand me, can she?"

"Of course, she can. I've known several horses over the years who could understand what you said to them better than most people."

"But, why do I need to talk to her? What do I say?"

"I see that you have been raised with the Roman attitude towards animals. If you are going to have a relationship with a horse, you must learn to treat them as an equal. The best relationship between a rider and horse is one of respect. It could save your life one day?"

"How?"

"Imagine that you had been whipped and beaten all of your life, forced to bear a burden that you didn't want to bear. If danger should come, would you not be mindful of your own safety more than him that abused you? But a horse that had been raised in kindness and compassion will carry through the strongest storm, against the bitterest foe, and he will not leave you to face anything alone."

"And for a confirmation of that report, just ask any of the knights." Said a familiar voice behind them.

Both Anaria and Miranda turned, surprised that none other than Lancelot had joined them. "Lancelot," said Anaria, "what are you doing here?"

"I was merely passing by, and I noticed you two lovely ladies in here discussing horses, and I thought that I might add my expertise to the conversation. You have to admit, Anaria, that I have some experience in this area. I have been riding and fighting on horses for over fifteen years. I might be able to think of some things that you can't."

"Such as?" inquired Anaria, who was looking at Lancelot with slightly raised eyebrows and a questioning expression in her eyes.

"Please, I would like to offer what service I may." Anaria couldn't help but notice that Lancelot seemed to be speaking more to Miranda then to her, as if Miranda's approval were of more value than her own.

Miranda smiled shyly, but with no small degree of enthusiasm said, "I would like that very much."

"Well, then let's get started, shall we?" said Lancelot, moving forward almost eagerly to take Miranda's hand, presumably so that he could lead her to the saddles, however, Anaria stopped him.

"Lancelot, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Lancelot stopped and looked almost embarrassed for a moment before he said, "Um, yes, I suppose so." However, judging by the look in her face and the tone of her voice, she wouldn't have given him an option.

They went off a little ways, and when Anaria was certain they were in a place where Miranda would not be able to hear them, she faced Lancelot and said to him, point blank, "Lancelot, you know that I hold you in high regard. You are like a brother to me, and I deeply treasure your friendship. However, I know your ways with women. If you have any sort of designs on Miranda, I warn you that you will be in deep trouble with me if she comes to any harm because of you."

Lancelot seemed taken aback by Anaria's warning. "Anaria, I don't have any designs, as you say, upon Miranda. I would never dream of doing such a thing to her. In fact, if I ever found out that anyone had broken her heart, I would be much quicker to dole out the punishment than you would be."

It might have been a slight overexgageration, but Lancelot was prone to those in a fit of passion. It was the intent underneath the words that one needed to pay attention too. And Anaria could see that he was telling the truth. However, she was still mildly cautious. "Despite my better judgment, Lancelot, I find myself believing you. However, I'll be watching you, and the first sign of any trouble, you'll be answering to me personally."

"I'll behave so properly you won't even recognize me." said Lancelot, "See if I ever do any harm to her Anaria, and in a few months time, we'll see who is in the right."

This serious conversation was suddenly interrupted by Miranda. "Don't the two of you have anything better to do than stand around talking all day? Anaria, you were the one who said that we needed all day to do this."

Miranda sounded like an impatient and eager child, and at the sound of her voice, a subtle change came over Lancelot's face, a gentleness and kindness that Anaria had never before seen in him. And judging by the eager way he went over and began to instruct her, made her wonder if she really did have anything to fear with Lancelot and Miranda. In fact, she remembered that they had been spending quite a lot of time together; could it be that Lancelot, after railing and swearing so long against love, had finally… but no, that was for another time to consider. Still, she would be watching them, though maybe with a different intent than suspicion.

With Lancelot having taken Miranda in hand, Anaria went over to Celeste's stall in order to prepare her for the day's ride, and that was the first thing that alerted to something that was dreadfully wrong. Ordinarily when Celeste saw her, she would whiney welcomingly, but today, she did not even seem to take notice of her. The black mare was shifting her weight continually from one foot to the other. Her eyes were rolling wildly and her head was tossing.

Anaria was puzzled. Celeste was usually so calm when she was around, what on earth was happening to make her so jumpy? "Celeste, what is it, girl?" She asked, trying to pat Celeste's neck comfortingly. Celeste merely shied away from the touch. She neighed and whinnied. Her eyes continued to roll and she stamped nervously. Anaria was certain that Celeste was trying to get something across, but what it was she couldn't tell. But, then she saw it.

The early morning sun was shining through the cracks in the boards of the stables, and it shone upon something shiny and wet on the floor of the stable. Looking closer at it, Anaria saw that it left a trail which ran straight in front of Celeste's stall, and unless she was mistaken, it looked like blood. No wonder Celeste had been in edge. The smell of blood could set any horse on edge.

Anaria suddenly began to feel that something was very wrong. She stole a quick glance at Lancelot and Miranda who were talking about the best way to saddle a horse. Both were occupied and weren't paying attention to her, so they obviously couldn't know what she had just seen, or what she was beginning to sense.

Once she had calmed Celeste down, she slipped out of the stall and followed the wet trail. It disappeared into the back of the theater, where stacks of hay were piled for the horses and where the shifting shadows far out played the light.

Suddenly Anaria tripped. She stumbled, turned and let out a horrified gasp when she saw the sight before her. It was a human arm, attached to a dead body that had been hidden behind the balk of the bales. But this was no ordinary dead body; it was clear that he had been murdered. His skin was drawn and pale, as though he had been dead for many hours. He was sprawled across the floor like a hideous spider. His eyes were staring straight at her, in the frightening expression of death. All this would have been horrifying enough, but what made it worse was that she knew this person.

Lancelot and Miranda heard her gasp and saw her expression, and they became alerted to the fact that something was terribly wrong. "Anaria, what's wrong?" asked Lancelot, as he came over to her. However, he stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell upon what she had seen. "Anaria, is that…"

"Yes, Lancelot. He's been murdered. What's more, I know who he is and that just makes me all the more nervous. You had best bring Arthur and Guinevere here, quickly."

"Right away!" said Lancelot, he looked one last time at he body and then ran from the stable.

Anaria steeled her nerves and bent down to examine the body. She touched his skin, quailing slightly at the cold feel of skin. Closer inspection revealed that whoever had killed him had done so by a direct wound to the back.

Miranda came over to Anaria. "What's going on?"

"Miranda, don't get to close, you shouldn't see this."

"I can't see in any case, and I have a right to know what is going on now that this is my home."

Anaria nearly slapped herself for her stupidity. Most of the time, Miranda did behave as though she could see better than anyone she had ever met. "Someone had been murdered. A man, stabbed in the back and given no better burying place than haystack." She made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.

"Murdered? How? Why?" questioned Miranda.

"I do not know anymore than you do, Miranda. And that just makes this whole situation that much more troubling."

Before Miranda could answer, Lancelot returned with Arthur and Guinevere in tow.

Arthur's face was worried, "Anaria, what has happened?"

Anaria gestured to the body. "Look and see for yourselves."

When Arthur and Guinevere saw the murdered body, their reaction was one of horror, and for Guinevere, the emotion of personal grief was added as well. "Harold," she whispered.

"Who?" Arthur questioned.

"One of my father's closest advisors." Explained Guinevere, "And one of mine and Anaria's good friends.

"What happened?" asked Arthur.

"He was murdered, Arthur. That's the only thing that I can say, stabbed in the back and hidden so that we wouldn't discover him. Unfortunately, whoever hid him didn't choose a very good hiding place. We should have found him sooner or later."

"Who could have done this?" said Lancelot, his disbelief that a murder had happened within the walls of Camalann now turning into anger that they had no idea who to blame.

"I don't know, Lancelot. No one would have cause to be in here over night or we would know about it by now."

"So nobody knows about this murder yet, do they?" asked Arthur.

"No."

"Good, take up the body and make sure that no one sees you. Place him where you think best. I don't want to send a wave of panic through the town yet. Lancelot, assemble the knights, tell them to meet us in the Fortress hall. Say that the business is urgent and requires immediate attention, but do not say yet what it is. They will know soon enough."


	19. Council of the Round Table

Council of the Round Table:

The day's business was just beginning. Despite the heat that was soon to rise from the ground in waves, the city's laborers and farmers still had to complete their work. And within the Fortress Hall, a feeling of unusual somberness seemed to have descended upon the members of the Round Table. There was no good-humored bantering as the knights assembled no smiles or greeting above the nod between comrades. The knights knew that there had been no messenger in the past few weeks; no trouble had been reported from anywhere in Arthur's kingdom. So, if they were being summoned to the Table at such an early hour, then they knew that it had to be for something serious.

Once everyone was assembled, Arthur began to speak, "My friends, I am sure that you know I wouldn't have called you here unless it was for a good reason. Now, I fear that we have a very serious problem on our hands. A murder has happened within the very walls of Camalann." Gasps of shock came from nearly everyone. "And to add to the mystery, there doesn't seem to be any kind of motive or suspect." He turned to Anaria, "Anaria, I believe that you can give a fuller account of this situation than I will be able too."

Anaria rose to her feet and said, "I know the man who was murdered, as do both Guinevere and Rudyard." The young Woad who had been appointed to serve Arthur seemed to sit u straighter and seemed to listen with a deeper interest at these words. "It was Harold, a man who was one of Merlin's closest advisors. I don't know why he was here, but it must have been an errand from Merlin and an important, one as well."

Jols, who was now sitting at the Table as one of the members, suddenly coughed and shifted. "Yes, Jols? You have something to add?" said Arthur.

"Yes, actually I do. One of the sentries on duty last night reported to me that a horseman came upon his watch in the middle of the night. The horseman said he had come with an urgent from Merlin to Arthur"

"And the reason you didn't tell me this before?" asked Arthur.

"I assumed that you had already been in conference with him. That's why I though you called this meeting."

Arthur sighed and shook his head, "You were doing your duty, Jols. I cannot blame you for that."

"But does not make this whole situation that much more worrisome." Said Anaria, pondering this information, "If Harold was bearing a message from Merlin, this is much more than just murder. It could be a deliberate attempt to hide the truth, and a very dangerous truth, at that."

"But who would want to do that?" asked Lancelot, "Who would even be able to know that Harold was here?"

"That's a question that we need to find the answer too." Said Arthur, "At this point, the only thing we can do is to start looking for the murderer. Jols, did the sentries report anything unusual in the night beyond Harold?"

"Nothing. No comings and goings, other than the usual comings and goings of the farmers who work in the fields."

"Than he must still be in the city." Said Rudyard, speaking for the first time, since the meeting started, "We can still apprehend him, and pay him back for this unforgivable crime." He rose and looked straight at Arthur, his voice quivering with enraged sadness. "Arthur, we need to start now. Spread out into the city, begin searching each and every house, every possible hiding place, take any hostage that act suspiciously enough to warrant attention."

"And what good would that do?" The quiet voice of Tristran asked, a stark contrast to Rudyard's hot and angry words.

Rudyard's eyes swung around and stabbed Tristran, "What would it do? It would send a message to whoever did this that Arthur and his followers won't back down. They'll react swiftly and decisively. That's what it will do. It will prove that Arthur is a true ruler."

"It will prove him to be a tyrant." Said Tristran, coolly, "Let me tell what this plan of yours will really do, Rudyard. It will cause widespread panic and anxiety. If we were to do as you propose, by arresting innocent people on no more than whim, it would be an open declaration that Arthur is no better than the Romans he replaced. It will cause the people to rebel, right when he needs their support the most. If we did this, Rudyard, be assured that the only thing to come from it would be death and the destruction of all that has been achieved in Britain so far."

Rudyard's eyes were blazing with fury, "So, are you proposing that we sit here and do nothing?"

"No, we have to do something."

"And would you mind telling us just what your plan would be?" inquired Rudyard, making no attempt to hide the harsh sarcasm in his voice.

"I confess that I don't have one, but whatever we do, we must do it with caution."

"And so you say that we should let the murderer escape?" shouted Rudyard, his temper finally breaking. "That we should let this whole thing blow over and-"

"That's enough!" Came the stern voice of Arthur, Rudyard was instantly silenced. "Tristran, Rudyard, you both sit at this table. That being the case, I expect you to remember the responsibilities that come with it. The people look to us to solve their differences, and we can't do that when we insist on fighting amongst ourselves. Stop arguing and try to remember that."

"Yes, Arthur." Said Tristran, who bowed his head respectfully.

Rudyard resentfully stared at Tristran for a moment, before including his head toward Arthur and saying, "Whatever my lord wishes." One could plainly hear that he was valiantly struggling to control his temper.

Once order had been restored and all attention was focused upon him, Arthur spoke once more. "As it turns out, I consider both your opinions to be valid. As you say, Rudyard, we must act soon, but as Tristran says, we must do so with caution. There no need to send a panic when we know nothing about the situation. How to proceed should be the issue here addressed."

"If I may, Arthur," said Guinevere, "Jols has said that Harold came here with a message from Merlin. It seems to me that the only thing we can do is hear the message from my father himself. If this message was enough that someone wanted to murder someone for it to keep a secret, then it isn't something that should be ignored. I request that I might be able to go and find my father."

"How will you find him?" asked Bors, "The Woads are constantly on the move this time of year."

"And as Woad, I should be able to find them. The Woads always reside in the northern forest during the summer. It is less than two day's ride journey by horse."

"You would need an escort, Guinevere." Said Arthur, "I won't allow you to go alone."

"I can go with her, Arthur." Said Rudyard, immediately, "I want to be of whatever help can be in this situation."

"That it is decided." Said Arthur, "Since we have no other plan. This is the best course to take. Guinevere, I want you to leave as soon as you're ready. For those of us who are staying behind-"

At that moment, the door to the hall burst open and a man entered. Anaria recognized him to be one of the people who worked on the Wall Guard. His eyes were agitated and it was clear that he was greatly upset about something. "Where's Arthur?"

"Here." Said Arthur, "What's the matter?"

The guard drew Arthur to the side and the two began talking in hushed whispers. They could not be heard by anyone in the room, but it was serious, whatever it was. Worried glances were exchanged at the table. What new crisis was happening that would cast as even darker veil over an already somber morning?

Finally, Arthur dismissed the servant. They all waited for him to speak, but he just stood for a moment, silent and immobile. He, at last, turned back to the Table and Anaria thought his whole being had been aged by ten years. And the look in his eyes made it seem even longer, "I am afraid that we may have to post pone your journey, Guinevere." He said, his voice tired and heavy, "A messenger had just arrived in the last five minutes. He came from a village along the Eastern coast. Apparently, they have suffered repeated attacks from raiders. Why they are and where they come from they don't know. Bu they have already destroyed the fields and killed a number of people. They have asked for our assistance."

"Well, then Arthur, just let me go or-"

"No, Rudyard, I don't want my people to be scattered across half the country. It's better if we stay together."

"What do you want us to do, Arthur?" asked Lancelot.

Arthur robbed his eyes, for a moment, the burdens of kingship weighing heavily upon him. But then, he said with his usual command, "Bors, Dagonet," the two knights he had indicated rose from their seats, "gather you're gear. You'll be accompanying me. Jols pick fifteen of your men and tell them that we're riding out at dawn." He turned to the other assembled in the room. "Guinevere, I need you to stay here, make sure that nothing unusual happens without your knowledge. As for the rest of you, keep your eyes and ears open. Report anything that seems suspicious. This incident is far from over. Once I return from this matter, we can look into this matter in full. Until than, I would request that what has passed in this room would remain secret."

There were wordless nods of assent from every person. Arthur was satisfied. "Good, than you may go. Guinevere, come with me. The messenger is here who brought this request. We'll be able to learn more from here."

The members of the table dispersed quietly, each one to lose in thought to engage in any sort of conversation. Only Rudyard continued sitting, staring stone-faced in front of him, oblivious to everything else.

Anaria saw him and was moved to compassion. Rudyard was still a young man, still only in his twenties. He wanted so desperately to distinguish himself in the Round Table that often times he suggested thing that were rash. In this case, his emotional outburst had no doubt been fueled by extreme grief, since he and Harold had been such close friends. For that reason, she could forgive him. She approached Rudyard carefully and laid a hand comfortingly in his shoulder. "I am sorry, Rudyard. I know that he was a friend of yours."

"We were more than friends; we were like kinsmen, even if we shared no blood relation. He didn't deserve this kind of death. You know as well I do that he was no coward. But he was killed from behind like a coward, and only a man with no courage could have done that."

"Rudyard, we will get to the bottom of this."

"Yes, we will." Said Rudyard, as he got up from his chair. "And when we do, I will make whoever did this pay for it." he wasn't lying.

He walked away from her and Anaria turned her head to follow him, and was surprised to see that Tristran was standing by the door of the Hall. He was watching them both with steely eyes, and when Rudyard passed by him, they exchanged a look that was anything but friendly. It was a dislike so intense that it bordered on hatred. Tristran and Rudyard had been at odds ever since the Woad had become part of the Round Table. The interchange between them that day had hardly been an isolated incident. They had clashed several times over less serious matters than that what had been discussed that day. Anaria knew very well the cause of their dissent. It was herself.

Rudyard had never made any move to continue his attentions to her, had never spoken of them. In the last few months, the respect that Anaria had always felt for him had gradually started to return, and she was perfectly willing to believe the best of Rudyard and that he wanted to be simply friends. Tristran, however, was not so liberal. He was not a man easily given to jealousy, but when he was, whoever had the misfortune to be the object of such emotions would have a long way to gaining Tristran's good favor. Unfortunately, Rudyard seemed about as ready to be in Tristran's friendship as much as Tristran was willing to give it.

Anaria, once Rudyard was gone, came toward Tristran, hoping that he would let the matter drop. But he didn't. "Anaria, what was that about, if I may ask?"

"I was merely offering my sympathies, Tristran." Said Anaria, "nothing more. There's not need to fear that I'm straying from your side."

"I'm not afraid of that." said Tristran, "What I'm afraid of is that he may leave you no choice."

"Rudyard is not the sort of man who would stoop so low." Said Anaria, shocked at what Tristran was implying, "He is a man of honor. If you took the time to see that, perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to dislike him."

Tristran stared at her for a moment before he said, coolly, "Perhaps I would be more open to his friendship, if he didn't do so much to provoke my dislike."

"Tristran, it's over. It never even began. He has accepted that he will never be able to have me."

"And you actually believe that? Haven't you noticed the way that he looks at you? The way that he takes any opportunity to be close to you? He may have told you that he's accepted it, Anaria, but you can believe that he's not anywhere close to that. He still loves you, Anaria. And you know how dangerous the combination of love and lust can be. It can drive a man to do things that he would never be able to do if he were sane."

"Tristran, I appreciate your concern, but it's not necessary. I got along with him for eight years and I don't need you constantly looking over my shoulder as though I were your property."

That stung him. Anaria could tell and she instantly regretted what she had said. Tristran hated to be compared, even remotely to the men in her life who had abused her. She wished that she could take it back, but it was already said, and she didn't have enough humility to offer an apology, not when she was so sure that she was right and Tristran was in the wrong. Tristran knew this as well, but not even he had the will to mend the rift.

Finally Tristran broke the suddenly icy silence between them. "You are not my property, Anaria. You are free to do as you like. But your protection and your life are my responsibilities. That was my promise when I married you and I intend to carry it out until the day I die." He walked past her and headed for the door of the Hall. He stopped at the threshold and turned back to her. "But if you feel that I have been too controlling you, than I apologize and I hope that, in the future, you may find me more accommodating to your needs." His tone was biting and sarcastic and it hurt her as much as it hurt him. With that last volley of words, he turned and stalked away.

They both hoped that the other would do something, anything to bring their hearts back in harmony, but neither could make that first crucial move as yet. And so they both left the room separately, silently, feeling in their hearts, the cold, feeling of an empty heart.

Neither of them saw the shadow which emerged from the door of the Hall once the two left. Rudyard had seen and heard everything. Only he felt no feeling of compassion, or remorse, as Anaria would have expected a man of honor to have. On the contrary, he felt happy and relieved. Each day, he felt that his chances were increasing at getting his heart's desires. At this moment, he wasn't yet ready to listen to his conscience, which would soon be the greatest weight that he would have to bear. He was only thinking that, soon, if he played well enough, Anaria would soon be his, as she always should have been.

* * *

Please, read and review.

Next chapter: Tensions are mounting at Camalann in the absence of Arthur. It turns out that he has fallen directly into a trap. The murder of Harold was only the beginning. What will happen when a brutal surprise attack leaves two women injured and the high queen of Britain a captive of Arthur's newest and deadliest enemy?


	20. Abduction

Abduction:

The King left on his mission of mercy that very afternoon, and though there was the usual twelve hour period of anxiety amongst the townsfolk, it was very soon lifted, for they were quite sure that Arthur would return as triumphant as ever. It is perhaps sometimes a relief to believe that a person really can live up to the legends which surround him; it can spare those who believe many unpleasant sensations. For there was a tension that was felt by more than a few at Arthur's leaving. The members of the Round Table, and those who were in on the secret of the murder of Harold could not shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, and Harold's brutal murder had been only the beginning.

On the third day of Arthur's departure, Anaria found occasion for getting of Camalann's stifling atmosphere. She was working in the infirmary when Gilly, one of Bors sons came to tell her something. "What is it, Gilly?" She asked, when she saw himstanding there, and moreover the somewhat frightened expressions on the little boy's faces.

"Brogan sent me to find you." said Gilly.

Brogan was Bors' eldest child, and it did take Anaria a moment to remember this, she was still getting used to the fact that Bors and Vanora had finally gotten around to naming all of their children properly. "What did he want? Is one of your siblings ill?"

"No, Anaria. Brogan sent us to tell you that one of them is missing."

Anaria immediately stopped what she was doing and asked to be taken to Brogan. Gilly led her back to Vanora's home and there they were met by a boy of sixteen years old, who had inherited his father's build to such a degree that he looked more like a full-grown man than a teenager. "Brogan, what is this I hear about one of you missing?"

"It's Alana." Said Brogan, and he didn't need to say anymore. Alana, once known as Six, had proven to be quite a feisty handful to Vanora. She was always getting into trouble, and more often than not was being scolded for some sort of mischief. Anaria, having taken a liking to her spirit, had taken her under her wing. Alana looked up to Anaria almost as much her father, so it had been a good match. However, not even Anaria could keep eyes on her all the time.

"She disappeared at least two hours ago," Brogan continued, "and I've looked for her everywhere in the fort, but she is nowhere to be found. She is small enough to slip past the Wall without the guards seeing her, and if she managed to get out, there is no telling what might happen to her."

"I know that Vanora is out with Guinevere and Fulcina on a gathering party, they might have run into her in the forest. But you are right to be worried. It's best to be sure of these things. Don't worry, Brogan, I'll go and find here. Stay here and mind the rest of the children."

Brogan seemed to be grateful for this. "Thank you, Anaria. That will lift a load from my mind."

Anaria set off as soon as she could. She was fairly sure that once she located Alana's trail, she would find the wayward miscreant soon enough. It took her little trouble to find it, for there is not much that a seven year old girl can do to hide her tracks, even if she knew how. Anaria followed the trail beyond the course of the Wall, and out into the woods. It took all of twenty minutes for her to begin to hear the sound of twigs snapping and leaves rustling, as a small person passed through them, no doubt absorbed in some sort of imaginary adventure of which she was the heroine.

The forest growth was thick this time of year, and though Anaria was fairly sure she was close, yet there was nothing but thick green screens wherever she looked. "Alana," she finally called. The noises immediately stopped and there was silence. "Alana, I know you're there. It's no use hiding. Come out, you know you shouldn't be out. Your brother is worried about you."

Silence and then, she heard the voice of Alana, coming from somewhere to her right. "If you want me, you're going to have to catch me." This was followed by the sound of crashing through the brush and branches. Anaria had not expected Alana to come out with such a gentle remonstrance. She had merely wanted to pinpoint the troublesome child's last location, and now she knew exactly which way to go.

She was not worried about being to catch up with Alana. Anaria knew how to move quickly and quietly through the woods. However, no sooner had she taken two steps in pursuit than the peaceful tranquility of the forest was shattered by a terrified scream. The sound could only have come from Alana. Anaria, all her former good humored annoyance at Alana instantly vanishing, called out, "Alana, Alana, what's the matter?"

For a brief second, the silence was terrible, but then Anaria received her answer in the form of yet another scream. Anaria sped through the forest, and, a small clearing a short distance away, found both Alana and the reason why she had become so suddenly terrified.

They were not the first to have entered the clearing that day. Indeed, it was obvious as Anaria looked around that a violent struggle had taken place. The dirt was covered in footprints, the branches snapped and the undergrowth bent and broken. But more than all these were the bodies of Vanora and Fulcina lying on the ground, both unconscious and both wounded.

Alana was kneeling beside her unconscious mother, her face streaked with tears, as she shook her mother repeatedly, begging her to wake up. Anaria had to bury her feelings of horror and surprise, knowing that she had to get Alana away from here. She went over to the small child and took her firmly by the shoulders. "Alana, get back to the fort."

"But, my mother-"

"Your mother will be fine, Alana, I promise you. The best thing you can do for her is go back to the fort and bring help. Do you understand? Bring the knights here as soon as you can."

Alana clearly seemed reluctant to leave her mother's side, but she trusted Anaria almost implicitly, and if she said that her mother would be all right, she was going to believe her. She got to her feet and raced off. In a moment, Anaria was left on her own with her injured friends.

Anaria could not bear to be idle while waiting. The first thing that she had to do was assess the wounds of both Vanora and Fulcina. They were both not as bad as she had at first feared, but if she had not come upon them when she did, they would have died before the day was out. Vanora was in the more serious condition of the two. A long slashing cut had been made to her side, and there was a wound to the back of her head. Fulcina likewise had a concussion and her arm appeared to be broken. It was nothing that Anaria would not be able to handle. But there was something else which was beginning to dawn on her during this time, and when she could no longer do anything for Vanora or Fulcina, it suddenly occurred to her that someone was missing. Where was Guinevere? She was supposed to be with them. What had happened to her? Anaria was reluctant to leave Vanora or Fulcina alone, but what is Guinevere ws even worse off than they were? And what could have induced her to leave two friends alone in the first place when they were injured, unless she had been harmed first herself. That was the only conclusion that Anaria could reach, and she did not like it.

However, just when she was beginning to consider just searching around the immediate area for a few seconds, a low moan arose from Fulcina's mouth. Instantly, Anaria was there beside her. Fulcina's slowly opened. For a moment, it seemed that she did not know where she was or what had happened. Her gaze landed on Anaria, and for a moment they seemed relieved. "Anaria, you are here? Surely now everything will be all right."

"Fulcina, lie still. You have a wound to your head, but you'll be all right."

"Vanora, what about her? I saw her fall, she looked bad."

"She's a bit worse off, but she'll be all right once help arrives." Anaria looked hard at Fulcina and at last asked the question that she needed to know the answer too. "Fulcina, where's Guinevere? What happened here?"

Fulcina looked confused. "You have not rescued her? I thought that you must have."

For some reason, those words caused Anaria's heart to sink. "Rescued her? What are you talking about?"

Fulcina seemed to be slipping back into unconsciousness, but she rallied herself just enough to pass along the last few moments of what she had seen. "Dark shapes in the shadows, they leaped out at us from all sides. It was an ambush. They were armed, we weren't. Guinevere tried to defend us, but they were to strong for her, and us. They captured her, bound her hand and foot, and left us to die. You must get her back." Fulcina's eyes drifted shut and she slumped backwards.

Anaria could hardly believe what she had just heard. She could not deny its truth, however much she would have liked too. The evidence was all around her, the scattered earth, the slash marks of bladed weapons upon leaf and tree, and her injured friends. No, she could not deny that this terrible thing had happened. It was not just her dear cousin who was in danger, which would have been bad enough. The Queen of Britain had been abducted by unknown forces. And as Anaria sat in that clearing, she had an awful feeling that this was only the beginning.

* * *

A storm was brewing on the horizon. It only made sense that the heat of so many days should serve as fuel for a storm. Already, the sky was beginning to be covered by angry grey clouds. The wind was picking up, swirling in great gusts in from the east. Before nightfall, Camalann would feel the welcome arrival of rain.

Some of the knights had been taking advantage of what they thought would be the day's good weather in order to train, however, the approaching bad weather would soon put an end to that possibility. But there was still one thing which needed to be proven between Lancelot and Galahad, and that was which one was the better swordsman. This debate had been raging for the past sixteen years amongst all the knights, and there was never any definite answer as to which the best amongst them, because their skills were so varied, that sometimes one seemed stronger than the other.

In this case, Lancelot seemed to coming out on the better end from Galahad, an event which the young knight no end of frustration. Of course, attacking in the heat of irritation did not help Galahad come any closer to beating Lancelot. Tristran, off to one side and watching the two of them, had already predicted which one would be coming out on the winning side. He was proven right when Lancelot knocked the blade from Galahad's hand in an unguarded moment and pushed the younger knight to the ground.

"You should be grateful I find your company so amusing, Galahad." Said Lancelot, as he held one of his double blades to Galahad's throat in a mock sign of triumph, "I could so easily kill you off as I do everyone that bores me."

Galahad huffed and slapped the flat of the sword away irately. "I don't know if I really find that a complement. Tristran bores you and I don't see you drawing your sword against him."

Lancelot offered him a hand, even while he continued ribbing Galahad. "It's because I happen to be very fond of Anaria, and I know that she would kill me if I so much as harmed a hair on Tristran's head. So, I don't have much choice other then to keep him around and tolerate his presence."

"And mind how fond you become of Anaria." said Tristran, as he came up them, "I would hate to relieve you of the possibility of having sons. Of course, that might be considered to be a blessing devoutly to be wished, so I shall keep my options open."

Lancelot was about to respond when he suddenly caught sight of something behind Tristran which caused the smile to fade from his face. Tristran and Galahad, puzzled by the sudden change of expression, both turned only to see approaching them Brogan and Alana. Brogan was grim-faced, while Alana looked as though she were completely exhausted and frightened. "Brogan, what is it?" said Lancelot, when the two had come up to them.

"Sir, I'm afraid that I have some disturbing news. My sister has just brought word that she found our mother and Vanora wounded in a clearing just east of Camalann."

The previous atmosphere of good humor vanished as these words hung in the air. For a moment, none of the knights could very well believe what they had just heard. Tristran was the first to regain some sense of speech. "What do you mean? How long ago was this?"

"No more than fifteen minutes ago. Anaria went out to find Alana a little while ago. The next thing, Alana comes back in near a panic and tells me to come looking for you."

Alana was the next one who spoke up, and it was clear that the experience had greatly disturbed her. She had been crying, and looked still on the verge of shedding more tears. She came up to Tristran, and without seemingly much thought or caution, she was hugging his waist. "I've never seen momma like that. Her face was as pale as a new moon. She wouldn't get up when I called to her. Anaria said that she would be all right, but I don't know…" Alana's voice trailed off and she began crying again.

Tristran could not help feeling a little awkward. He was not used to someone as young as this looking to him of all people for comfort. Nonetheless, he tried to offer what he could. He gently pried the child's arms from around his waist, and looked her on the eye. "If Anaria says that your mother will be all right, than you must trust that."

The firmness in Tristran's tone and the comforting look in his eye made her feel somewhat at ease. She said nothing, but tried to smile through her tears and nodded. Tristran, briefly wondering if he had just experienced a future moment of fatherhood, rose and turned to the others. "Well?"

The question was obvious and so was the answer. "Come on, you two. We have to see what's behind this. Brogan, take care of Alana. If Tristran can pick up her trail, we can do without you. It's best to not let her see any more of it than she already has."

* * *

The wind was rising, swirling and blowing wildly through the trees. Clouds had covered the face of the sun, casting a gloom upon what had once been a bright and still summer day. It was almost cold. In the forest, Anaria could do no more than wait. It felt like much longer than it really was. But, at last, she heard the sound that she had been listening for. "Anaria."

It was Tristran, and his call was soon followed by that of Lancelot. "Tristran, Lancelot, over here."

In a moment, Lancelot, Tristran and Galahad stepped into the clearing and stopped on their tracks when they saw what was before them. "What happened here?" Lancelot asked, observing both the two wounded women on the ground and the obvious signs of a conflict.

"They were attacked." Said Anaria, "Fulcina told me that they were ambushed. It happened so fast that they weren't able to defend themselves or see who it was that attacked them. But it is worse. They took Guinevere."

"They took her?" repeated Lancelot.

"Yes, she has been abducted." They all stared at her in horrified disbelief. Though Anaria still shared those feelings to some extent, yet she had had some time to be able to process it, and she knew that there were priories to be attended too. Much as she hated to admit it, there was nothing that could be done for Guinevere at the moment, not when they knew so little and had no way of finding out more. "I am sure that they will tell us what they can when they are able, but we need to get them back to Camalann. Neither of them is in any danger at the moment, but if I don't treat them soon, they will both be in trouble."

They all seemed sensible that she was right. Galahad moved to pick up Fulcina, while Lancelot concerned himself Vanora. It took Anaria a few moments to make sure that the two did not unnecessarily make the injuries worse, and during the time that her attention was distracted, she did not notice that Tristran had noticed something which seemed to interest him greatly. When Lancelot and Galahad had begun to leave with their burdens, Anaria turned around to look for Tristran, only to see that he was on the other side of the clearing. He was on his knees, seeming to be studying something intently.

"Tristran?"

He looked around at her and said, "You go along. I will be there in a moment."

Anaria was puzzled, but knew that it would be a waster of time to argue. Tristran didn't seem to want to divulge anything and she had Fulcina and Vanora to attend too. She merely nodded, trusting that Tristran would tell her in his own good time. And she left him to whatever he had been doing.

What had captivated Tristran's attention so completely was of great importance, for it might hold the key to begin to track down Guinevere. Tristran had once been Arthur's best tracker. He could track down anyone in any surroundings, no matter what the circumstances of environment, or how much the person had endeavored to hide their tracks. It just so happened that though the attackers had been swift and fast, they had not been the best at hiding their escape route. It only took a few minutes of searching for Tristran to find what he was looking for, the minute signs that many people would not have been able to find even they had been looking all day: a broken twig, a series of scrapes in the earth, a bent leaf. All signs pointed him in one direction. They had been a small group, perhaps only ten. But it had been enough, and they were moving fast. It was now early afternoon. Guinevere, Vanora and Fulcina had come out during the early morning hours. With the kind of lead which the attackers had, they would be miles away by now.

However, Tristran was certain that he could track them. That meant that there was only one thing he could do. He would have to leave behind the woman he loved, the knights and Camalann when this time upcoming could very well be the darkest time of Arthur's reign. Somehow, he felt that the events of the past few days were a mere prelude to a threat that would prove to be even more dire than that of the Saxons. It was not an easy decision by any means for Tristran to make, but at the same time, he knew that he had no choice. If Guinevere was to survive, if Arthur was to continue being king, he needed to know everything that he could about these mysterious attackers.

His decision made, Tristran rose to his feet and made his way back to Camalann. Above him, the black clouds lowered, and the distant rumble of thunder rolled through the forest. The heavens seemed to be foretelling the turmoil that was soon to descend upon the lands below them.

* * *

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